#for example Ezra was actually a horrible person

[dejwrld]

pretty little liars books were my roman empire

[m-ilkiee]

Tw for rant i just need to get this off my chest. Please don't ask me any questions and don't harrass me over this.

I feel like we overreacted over a certain situation that happened earlier this year.

I was doing my daily self-reflection when I realized I had to confront certain things I did in the past and today was the day I had to think about what happened in January on Tumblr, because yes, it was a part of my life and the beginning of the end for me.

If you think I'm talking about the Ezra situation, I am.

I look back to that situation, and yes I still find that I'm not compactible with what I saw on his twt, but should that anonymous person have gone out of their way to humiliate him on tumblr when he didn't want anybody to know about what he did on twt? I don't think so.

Ezra is not a good person. That I know, and there are other things that Ezra had done to my former friends and other people that should have taken front stage instead. Things that his friends covered for him. Things that actually hurt real people. But we didn't care about that. The racism thing for example.

But that twitter. I understand now that he was trying to carve out a safe space for himself to work out his own fantasies using fictional characters. And while many of us don't agree about what he did, perhaps we should have seen a person struggling as well. I can remember his last post cause it's burned in my mind. He was working through a lot of trauma and he probably already beats himself up for thinking that way, and then majority of tumblr shamed him for it, reiterating his own fears. Some people even called the police on him. I even joined in, saying horrible things about him and now, I feel nothing but guilt. I didn't even empathize with him or try to see things why he thought the way he did.

To our knowledge, he didn't hurt anyone in real life with his fantasies. Maybe we should have respected his privacy and left him alone, hell we could have just blocked him, instead of harrassing him. As I delve into the medical practices, things, cases, nothing is ever black or white, especially the way people deal with trauma.

Maybe Tee was right. Even a broken clock can be right twice and the way we treated him was wrong. There are better ways we could have settled it. There are other things he did that should have been addressed but how he was coping with his trauma was none of our business. I still find content like that gross, but he wasn't grooming anyone and he really tried to carve out a space for himself without involving anyone else that he knew. And we didn't try to understand. We didn't try to work it out. We didn't even try ignore him or block him.

I feel guilty for participating in the witch hunt. I should have never done that. I should have never have said anything because I didn't know enough, I just blindly rushed in. I'm very sorry Ezra, I know you won't read this and I hope you won't, really, but from the bottom of my heart I'm sorry I did that to you. I'm sorry I joined in harrassing you by reblogging that post and continuing to harrass you. I feel so much guilt everytime I think about it. I'm sorry. I should have understood.

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: “Breaking Ranks”

Ezra acquires some friends and Imperial disguise gear, let’s jump right in.

This show is so pretty sometimes.

The Imperial Dome and the factories look almost like a blight on the scenery in this shot; they look like they’re constructed of completely different materials and they’re distinctly obvious even under the same light.  It’s really quite a lovely use of light/dark color balance.

And pan down for our introduction to the cadet training academy, which as you can see is a completely different building from the Imperial Dome, fandom.

*grumbles*

In distinct and clear contrast to bright homey colors of the Ghost, the Imperial facility is of course clinical, colorless, and sterile, yet another example of the Empire’s austere authoritarian aesthetic.

The only splash of color anywhere are the helmets of our four named cadets.  (And honestly most of that is probably just Doylistically so that we can tell who’s who when they’re moving around the obstacle course.)  Everyone else is faceless and indistinguishable.  Ezra’s sigil is a heroic red, marking him subtly in Rebel Alliance colors.  Oleg’s is duplicitous green (also symbolizing his apparent ambition and avarice), Jai’s is calm blue and Zare’s is clever/creative yellow.

Ngl, hearing Dante Basco’s voice always throws me, my brain hears Zuko and it is super distracting.

Love how Ezra can’t resist a chance to be cheeky lol.

Aresko and Grint making note of Ezra’s uncanny skill and marking him for suspicion AKA Example #45 of the Empire’s relentless persecution of Force Sensitives.  If you’re just a little bit too good at what you do you get pulled aside and assessed for midichlorians and Force potential.  In Legends EU they tested Wedge like five or six times because they refused to believe he was just that skilled lol.

Ahh the camaraderie of students stuck in a horrible school together. <3

Chopper’s Imperial paintjob is a bit more rudimentary and crude this first time.

Kanan having very understandable apprehensions about putting his barely-trained padawan in the midst of a bunch of Imperials.  Don’t think about the anxiety this poor man is having, recalling all his early years of hiding and suppressing and being on the run, looking out for enemies on every side and never knowing who he could trust, and now projecting all of that into his parental worry over Ezra. :)

Kallus barely paying attention to Cadet!Ezra lol.

There hasn’t been much to say about the music thus far, it’s all unique to these scenes, but there’s a bit here where Ezra’s infiltrating the office that’s reminiscent, in instrument choice note progression, of cues used during the Death Star bits in A New Hope.

So we’re agreed that the kyber crystal shipment that Kanan and Hera are trying to stop was 100% going towards the Death Star, right?

Early fandom was pretty certain that the “five year plan” later mentioned this season was leading up to a Death Star reveal and, to be fair, a lot of kyber and doonium they were mining from Lothal was being used in the Death Star project, but no one actually guessed that the Empire’s interest in Lothal was a tad more personal and unique.  (Thrawn’s pet TIE Defenders and the World Between Worlds.)

Kind of a shame they relegated the continuation/conclusion to Dhara’s story to tie-in materials, it would have made a good plot arc in the show proper, especially given that the Force Sensitive children in Season Two were likely being kidnapped for the same endgoal: Project Harvester, one of Palpatine’s many efforts to subdue and control and “manage” free-range Children of the Force.

It was one of the tasks he gave the Inquisitorius, focusing more on capturing and recruiting new baby Force Sensitives rather than hunting down Order 66 survivors.  It’s quite possible that children captured under Project Harvester eventually get drafted into the Inquisitorius but it’s also hinted that they’re experimented on or meant to become some kind of telepathic spy network for Palpatine.

In any case, not a pleasant outcome.

*ALLY ACQUIRED*

Ezra probably wasn’t a stranger to having to backstab “friends” as a street orphan but he’s definitely not enjoying it.

The ruthless hyper-competitive Social Darwinism of the Empire evident in how Aresko encourages the backstabbing here.

Zare playing the part of confused low-level peon that no one tells anything perfectly here, lol.

And Ezra’s trusting enough that he openly uses the Force in front of him.

Zare’s little astonished double-take with his eyes ha ha.

I don’t think they ever confirmed whether or not Jai was actually Force Sensitive, or just talented enough to trip suspicion.  Either way, still probably a good thing Ezra decided to stay to extract him.

(It’s six episodes in and Ezra’s selfless Jedi instincts are already growing, aaaah character development!)

Sabine totally digs Ezra’s hero complex.

Another small note about Ezra’s character development: He now has confidence that they’ll come back for him. :)

Kanan having a small freakout when he hears Ezra didn’t get extracted. <333

Am I the only one who headcanons that Jai’s mom had him a little young?  I dunno, I just kinda get Impoverished Single Mother vibes, maybe that’s why Jai was eager to rank up, even when he heard about the Inquisitor.

Ahhhh one of the classic themes at last!

Ezra jumping in to take the stun shot for Jai, making up for knocking him off last time. :)

The separate sequences are tightly intercut here, great editing work.

Lol the boys sound a little bit shrill here.

The kyber explosion is beautiful.

For the sharp-eyed, the Phantom can dock both forward and backwards.  Kanan parks it nose in into the socket this time.

Rebel Alliance fanfare right here.  And Ezra’s theme once we cut back to him.

SHUT UP AND LET ME HAVE THIS, IT’S CUTE.

Lol Zeb pulling up the speeder and filling it up with kids like it’s a mom van.

Grand looking piiiiiiiiised ha ha.

The warm lighting in this last scene here is lovely, underscores the heartwarming little moment here between Kanan and Ezra nicely.

So the best part of this episode is definitely the fact that we’re already seeing character growth for Ezra, and to a lesser extent Kanan.  Aresko and Grint get a couple humanizing moments that make their eventual offing even more shocking, we befriend a couple allies that come into play later, get glimpses of how the Empire propagandizes their youth, and the first hints of the Empire’s nefarious behind the scenes machinations start bubbling towards the surface.

A solid episode, if relatively low-stakes.  I don’t think I ever quite worried that Ezra would be caught this round (unlike the absolute stressfest that was “An Inside Man” and “Through Imperial Eyes”) but it was still engaging to watch him infiltrate enemy territory and pull a few friends out with him.

It’s the girls’ turn tomorrow. :)

[adamwatchesmovies]

We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011)

It’s impossible to imagine anyone calling We Need to Talk About Kevin their favorite movie. Even saying that you ‘enjoyed it’ would raise some eyebrows but that’s because it’s so well made. Watching it alone would be nearly traumatic but if you catch it with a group of friends and set aside some time to talk about it (the movie’s title says you should, after all), it will be an illuminating experience you won’t forget anytime soon.

Once a successful travel writer, Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton) has lost everything and now lives alone. Hated by her neighbors for a crime her son Kevin (played by Ezra Miller) committed, she thinks back to his upbringing, trying to figure out where things went wrong.

If We Need to Talk About Kevin has any flaws, it’s that 1) the story is unpleasant and 2) you can sort of piece together some aspects of it before the big reveal. I'll argue these flaws should not be held against the film because they're necessary.

There was no way to make We Need to Talk About Kevin a good ol’ time at the movies. Kevin is a horrible collection of cells. He is a manipulative psychopath whose life has brought nothing but misery to everyone who ever met him. When he dies, the world will be a better place. No insult you throw his way is too harsh and no punishment he endures could ever be agonizing enough.

As for that second “flaw”, the film’s predictable “reveal” during the final act, I’m going to argue that Kevin's crime is a forgone conclusion. The point of the movie is that we are revisiting the past through Eva’s eyes. She's exploring her memories, wondering how she could've missed all the hints that we see. It allows you to understand and maybe even sympathize with her, which is a difficult thing because you don’t like Eva. You might not want her to end up in the darkest, most painful circle of Hell Kevin is sent to, but even before her son completely destroyed her life, she wasn’t a particularly nice person, a good mother or a good wife (Eva's husband is played by John C. Reilly) either. Ever wonder how the parents of someone who overdoses on drugs, becomes a serial killer or abuses their spouse must feel when they learn that what they knew would happen actually happens? That's what We Need to Talk About Kevin is about.

We Need to Talk About Kevin is difficult to watch but in the end, it all builds to something so unexpected you have to pause and think about it. Look at the way director Lynne Ramsay uses the colour red, for example. It's an obvious choice for a story about violence like this one, but the true meaning of the colour is not obvious. It triggers memories or ties flashbacks to scenes in the present. Noises are used similarly. There’s the sound of sprinkler systems that come back over and over. You don’t know why at first. When we find out, that information recontextualizes everything. You're so busy thinking about the way the story flows and its themes that you nearly overlook the other technical aspects. The performances are the kind that are so convincing you'll overlook them. You forget you're watching actors; you just see the characters they're playing. Although the emotions the film raises are negative, the techniques used to generate them is nothing short of masterful.

Throughout We Need to Talk About Kevin, you’re unsure about how the mother and son feel about each other. Every fiber of your being tells you that Eva hates Kevin and that he hates her. You hate Kevin too, so how could she not? Everything he’s ever done has built up to a deliberate choice that has ruined her life. It's like everything else was just collateral damage. It was always solely about her. They are always on each others’ minds and the last scene makes you wonder. To me, it seems as though Kevin has kept ties with his mother just so he can continue to torment her, just so he can see his hard work pay off. If he can get her to say “I hate you”, he’s won. Sensing this - after all, Eva knows him better than anyone - she puts up with him. The big question is whether, in that final scene, something has changed. The last time we see Kevin there’s something different about him. Certainly on the outside. On the inside? It’s hard to say. Maybe he’s realized something’s about to change and he now realizes just where his actions are about to bring him. Maybe it’s just a new tactic. Maybe hatred has turned to love. Maybe there was love there all along. Figuring out what's actually happening in that final moment is what this movie is ultimately about, which makes it a powerful experience. I said powerful, not necessarily enjoyable.

As time passes, I find myself thinking about We Need to Talk About Kevin a lot. Are the thoughts loving? I'm not sure. Perhaps they're similar to the thoughts parents of terrible children have about their kids; yeah you hate them, but you know, they’re your kid so one way or another, you love them too. (February 25, 2022)

[catfur-and-greenscales]

Luminara Unduli - One Gruesome destiny

Order 66 is one of most devastating thing at Star Wars universe. All of us have experienced the horror and desperation. The utter destruction of the Jedi and their confusion when it happens. The part of the survivors is even more horrible. Majority of those who survived were not able to hide, not at least for a long time, before being captured and put through of interrogation and active process of making them fall to the Dark side. To wreck their personality and break their self control. Like what happened to Cere Junda and Trilla Suduri (aka Second sister). One of those Jedi captured were Jedi Master Luminara Unduli.

( Clone Wars 2 x 06 - Weapons factory) Luminara was known to be a great Jedi. Maybe a bit too great since she was unable to sense the turmoil her padawan Barriss was going through and falling to the Dark Side, but also being critizied later by Rafa and Trace by almost cold and emotionless attitude towards them when losing their parents at escape of Zero the Hutt related issue. Even she probably was not meaning it, her reasoning to persons outside of the Force were really harsh and not meeting the world of theirs at all.

That anyway tells how lost of everyday life the Order was.

But anyway. She was a good Jedi and she was captured at Kashyyk by the Empire. Which makes wonder why were Yoda not trying to save her?! I have few things to say about Yoda, and his actions at Kashyyk would deserve an own update. But she was betrayed by her own troops and apparently by her own Order too. Then she was tortured by Vader and Inuisitors. After year or two of imprisonment ( I’d like to think that she was not yielding and they knew she was not going to fell to the Dark Side) she was executed. And her remains were put into a box like some show case.

(Rebels 1 x 05 Rise of The Old Masters) Show case and a holocron that the Inquisitors and Empire used to lure out the survived Jedi, rebels and other Force sensitives even almost two decades after her death. By how the Grand Inquisitor brought things up to Kanan and Ezra, it sounded like that had been a very successfull tactis. She would have hated it. She absolutely would have hated it. The only confort is that she, after all, find her way to the Force since she has been listed as one of the voices talking to Rey at Exegol. "The light, find the light, Rey." - Luminara Unduli Her destiny is a very heart breaking example of a Jedi surviving actual Order 66 but not the aftermath and the Empire. But it is also a story of a woman who stayed strong until the very end, even she probably knew she was going to die. She was not ready to give up what she was believing in and she died for it.

[jkottke]

The Conversation Has Never Been Wider

I am still listening to the excellent interview with Tressie McMillan Cottom on The Ezra Klein Show, but I wanted to highlight this exchange right at the beginning of the interview because I think it's relevant to a lot of our shared interests, especially if you've been online reading blogs or personal sites for 15, 20, or even 25 years:

EZRA KLEIN: Well, I'm always asking for us to bring back blogging.

[LAUGHING]

There is a nostalgia, oftentimes, among people who came up in it, for the internet of the aughts.

TRESSIE MCMILLAN COTTOM: Yeah. The old internet.

EZRA KLEIN: Do you think that's nostalgia, or do you think something was lost?

TRESSIE MCMILLAN COTTOM: Hmm. OK. So I now work with a lot of internet people. I'm in an information school at a university. And so a lot of my very good friends are those people, so I want to tiptoe carefully. I do think that there was a clubbiness and a camaraderie, even among people who politically disagreed. There was a class of thinkers, a class of writers who came up in that web 2.0 that does feel like, yeah, we lost something there.

There was a humanity there for good or for bad. Humanity is messy, but there was a sense that those ideas were attached to people, and there were things driving those people, there's a reason they had chosen to be in that space before it all became about chasing an audience in a platform and turning that into influencer and translating that into that -- before all that happened, the professionalization of it all. And that's what I think we're missing when we become nostalgic for that web 2.0. I think it's the people in the machine.

Having said that, I am very resistant to nostalgia as a thing because usually what we are nostalgic for is a time that just was not that great for a lot of people. And so what we were usually really nostalgic for is a time when we didn't have to think so much about who was missing in the room, who wasn't at the table. So when I talk to friends, and especially younger people coming up behind us either in the internet or in writing spaces, we're like, that time was horrible for young queer people.

They talk about looking for little safe pockets of space in web 2.0 world where it was still very OK to be homophobic, for example, in those spaces and our casual language and how we structured that kind of thing. And they love being able to leave that part behind in this new world of whatever the web is now, both a consolidated and a disaggregated new web.

That's why I'm like resistant to nostalgia. At the same time, I'm like, yeah. I also laugh and go, I really miss having a blog. In some ways, coming back to the newsletter, and Substack was kind part of that. It's me being nostalgic for having a place where I could put thoughts that didn't fit into any other discourse or genre, and I wanted a space where I could talk to people who were actually interacting like real people. They weren't acting like bots, or trolls, or whatever your internet persona is.

So, I mean, I say I'm resistant to nostalgia. I just try not to reproduce it, but even I get a little -- I'll always have a soft spot for Blogger, which is coincidentally my first "where I state" space on Blogger.

EZRA KLEIN: Yup. Me too.

TRESSIE MCMILLAN COTTOM: [LAUGHS] I'll always be a little romantic about it.

EZRA KLEIN: But I think you're right about that criticism of it, too. Something that, for all that I can tip into nostalgia, something that I think is often missed in today's conversation is the conversation has never been wider.

TRESSIE MCMILLAN COTTOM: Yes.

EZRA KLEIN: People talk all about things they can't say, but it has never been wider.

TRESSIE MCMILLAN COTTOM: Yup.

EZRA KLEIN: There's never been a larger allowable space of things you could say.

TRESSIE MCMILLAN COTTOM: That's right.

EZRA KLEIN: And people have also never been more pissed about how it feels to participate in it. I don't want to say never, but broadly, there is an intensity to that conversation that is distinct, and I don't think those things are unrelated, right? I think it is the wideness of the conversation and the fact that there are so many people you might hear from that make you feel cautious and insecure and unsafe, and the good of it is the bad of it.

TRESSIE MCMILLAN COTTOM: Exactly. One of the things I like to say to people is that we think that broadening access in any realm -- we do this with everything, by the way. It's such an American way to approach the world. We think that broadening access will broaden access on the terms of the people who have benefited from it being narrowed, which is just so counterintuitive.

Broadening access doesn't mean that everybody has the experience that I, privileged person, had in the discourse. Broadening it means that we are all equally uncomfortable, right? That's actually what pluralism and plurality is. It isn't that everybody is going to come in and have the same comforts that privilege and exclusion had extended to a small group of people. It's that now everybody sits at the table, and nobody knows the exact right thing to say about the other people.

Well, that's fair. That means we all now have to be thoughtful. We all have to consider, oh, wait a minute. Is that what we say in this room? We all have to reconsider what the norms are, and that was the promise of like expanding the discourse, and that's exactly what we've gotten. And if that means that I'm not sure about letting it rip on a joke, that's probably a pretty good thing.

Look, as someone who benefitted hugely from it, I miss the golden age of blogging as much as anyone -- productive discussions in comment threads, the community alchemy of Flickr, Google Reader, cross-blog conversations, the Open Web, small pieces loosely joined, etc. etc. etc. -- but over the past few years, I've felt a lot less nostalgia for it for exactly the reasons McMillan Cottom & Klein are talking about here. Make the Internet Great Again is, in many important ways, as short-sighted, futile, and limiting as, well, you know.

[lo-55]

Tilt The Hourglass

Summary : "Enough." Said a voice from the Holocron. "The Sith will not be destroyed! You cannot change what we have done! You will suffer-"

"Enough." Said another, without anger. "The balance must be restored. It will tip too far. Too much pain, and a galaxy a sore in the soul. More must be done!"

Enough. Maul thought, sheltered in the arms of his rival. Enough. It’s over.

It isn't.

Maul is no longer a sith. 

He had not been one in decades, now. 

He had not been a sith since the death of Savage. Perhaps he had never been a true sith at all. His master hadn’t taught him much outside of combat. He could not produce force lightning, and his understanding of the spiritual aspect of their order was limited to what little had been necessary to encourage his hatred of jedi and what he’d needed to know to enhance his abilities as an assassin. 

He’d carried that hatred, and the hatred of all the sith that had come before him, their ashes still fresh in his mind some days. With their own agony stacked on top of his own it had been easy to nurse his grudge as long as he had. 

Few times in his life had Maul been as elated as he had been when he’d learned Kenobi yet lived. An unanswered grudge was like an untreated wound, something to fester and rot inside his chest. The chance to end their decade old dance drove him to Tatooine, where they’d first crossed paths all those years ago. Ezra, his dear(if reluctant) apprentice played his part perfectly, and Maul did nothing to keep him from leaving, save promise to see him again. He intended to keep that promise. The shattered remnants of two holocrons were warm enough in his pocket that he could feel the heat where flesh met metal. He knew; today was a great ending. 

He wasn’t expecting the pale blue light to slice through his hilt. He wasn’t expecting the smell of burnt flesh or the pain in his chest. 

He thought he would win. He thought it would be Kenobi’s ending. 

The biggest surprise was the arms that wrapped around him, saving him from falling in the sand. Warm, and careful. The shards in his pocket pulsed. A thousand Sith hissed phantom words at him. A thousand Jedi hummed ghostly thoughts. 

He stared up at Kenobi. His hair had gone silver, but his eyes were the same bright blue Maul had known for twenty years. Longer. Twenty? Thirty? 

Gods, how old had they become? 

How old was the person Kenobi protected? For a jedi to go so far for one person, when they were forbidden their attachments- 

Well. Kenobi had never been very good at that part, had he? 

They were both poor examples of their orders. 

It was enough to make Maul laugh, a hacking, wet thing that resulted with blood in his mouth and his body screaming with pain. 

“The boy,” Maul croaked. “Is he your ‘chosen one’?” The jedi in the holocron sang louder. 

Kenobi watched him, his blue eyes sad. “He is.” 

Why sad? He’d finally dealt the final blow to his enemy, to the man who killed his master, to the man who stole his love, and left carnage in his wake. Why would he be sad to have his vengeance? 

Jedi. 

“He will destroy the sith,” Maul could see it in his mind's eye, in flickers of the Force. The Sith in his pocket hissed louder in rage. Maul wanted to laugh in their faces. A Grand Plan, passed from one to the other. A success to end in failure!

A green lightsaber, so like the one that Kenobi had wielded against him. A dark cloak, ragged breathing, and an explosion that will rock the galaxy to its core. 

And at last, Maul’s own master, falling to his death just as Maul had so long ago. Poetic. 

“He will avenge us.” The both of them, tormented by Sidious, by the sith. Both of them pushed to the brink, until all that was left was the two of them alone in the desert. Maul grasped the shards in his pocket with the hand that didn’t reach for his rival. He squeezed them with all of his strength, the corners biting into his palms until a voice snarled far off. 

Enough. It said. The Sith will not be destroyed! You cannot change what we have done! You will suffer-

Enough. Said another, without anger. The balance must be restored. It will tip too far. Too much pain, and a galaxy a sore in the soul. More must be done! 

Enough. Maul thought. Enough. It’s over. 

Maul grasped at Kenobi as the darkness crawled closer. The light of the twin suns dawning crested Kenobi in a halo of light, and left Maul, again, in the shadow.

He let out the last breath of his life and crushed the holocron shard’s to dust.  

A green head poked into view. 

Maul stared up at her. 

The sky above her head was blue and wide, with puffy pink clouds streaking across it. A familiar face and a familiar sky. 

“Kilindi?” 

Was this his fate? To face those he’d killed in death? 

Yet, she did not look as she had when he had given her the most merciful death he could manage under the circumstances. She was younger. Her cheeks were fuller, and her head tails were shorter and the stripes were less distinct. Her eyes were wide and worried. 

“Oh good,” she smiled at him and sat back on her heels. “I thought you might have had your brain scrambled. Trakor threw you pretty hard.” 

Maul blinked dumbly up at her. 

Trakor. An instructor of the academy their first six years, before Meltch Krakko had come out of ‘retirement’. He was just as brutal as the mandalorian. He hadn’t thought of either of them for a long time. 

Over the years Maul had almost forgotten him and the mandalorian, so full was he with hate for others more deserving of his ire. 

(He would deny it until his dying breath, but Maul tried not to think of Orsis. Of Kilindi and Daleen, and their bodies in his arms and blood on his hands. ) 

(Oh. Wait. He’d had his dying breaths) 

(...He would still deny it) 

“Is that so?” he sat up slowly, his whole body aching. He drew his legs up. 

His legs. His actual legs, not the mechanical ones he’d had for years. Maul poked at his thighs. He grasped his knee cap between his forefinger and thumb and wiggled it back and forth. He’d been very flexible as a child. His hands were so small, his fingers were short, and calloused but they missed several scars. His arms were hidden by the long sleeves of an Orsis academy uniform, but they too were too short, and too skinny. 

“Uh, Maul?” she asked lightly, her smile dropping into concern. 

Trakor appeared over her shoulder and pushed her aside briskly. 

“Up, boy. I didn’t hit you that hard.” 

“He blacked out,” Kilindi argued. “He could be concussed!” 

When Trakor reached for him, Maul bared his sharp teeth on instinct. Trakor scowled at him. 

“Hold still,” he ordered gruffly. Maul clenched his fists, but didn’t lash out when Trakor pulled out a light and flicked it into his eyes. Maul had hated the man. He’d hated this place, and how he’d been forced to make himself lesser to pass his lessons. Maul loathed having to hold back, but he would not lie. The skills had served him well later in life. 

“I’m fine,” he said firmly. 

“Quiet. You’re going to medical.” 

“I’m fine,” Maul insisted, scowling at him. He was fine! Just dead. Maybe. Or hallucinating? Had it all been some kind of horrible vision? 

No, surely not. He had had vision through the force. None of them were like that. Not even the memories of the fallen sith, clawing their way through his skull. 

“I wasn’t asking.” 

Trakor grabbed him by the back of his shirt like he was a misbehaving youngling and forcefully dragged Maul towards the door. Maul was in the middle of trying to claw his arm off, unwilling to out himself as a force user just yet, when Kilindi fell into step with them and he scowled and stopped. 

It was… surreal. 

Trakor was brutal, and Meltch Krakko had been even more so. He had been the bane of his existence for years. He had set Maul up to be taken as a slave, for the crime of being Forceful. Maul had killed him, and years later Maul had ruled the very organization that Meltch had belonged to. 

If anyone had bothered to bury him after Maul left Orsis, Meltch would have rolled in his grave. 

The thought was enough to make him smile. Kilindi looked even more concerned. 

Maul let Trakor drag him to medical and drop him in front of a droid that Maul only vaguely remembered. Most medical droids were the same. Logic minded and professional, without a hint of bedside manner. As if Maul had ever been exposed to such things. They were for weaker creatures than him. 

He answered each question, with only a few stumbles. He couldn't answer what day it was, or who was the chancellor, and he didn’t recall the fake surname he’d been given for his time training. 

The droid declared him concussed, and sent him to rest in his dorm for the time being. Krakko, who actually looked mildly guilty, let Kilindi take him back. Maul was reminded that Mandalorians had a strange value for children. 

Maul followed Kilindi through half forgotten halls. 

She was small. So small. Not the tall young nautolan who had died with that sardonic smile. 

She was still taller than Maul was. 

Sidious had lied about Maul’s age when he enrolled him. The headmaster had been willing to look the other way, but they had to say something to other instructors and the students. They’d said he was eleven, three years older than the truth. The year he’d killed her Kilindi had plotted to throw him an eighteenth birthday party. She had been just shy of nineteen.

As far as most people were concerned Maul was just very small for his age, especially for a Zabrak. He’d learned his true age only decades later, from Mother Talzin. 

They stopped at the barracks. 

One day, when he was top of his class, Maul would be awarded his own dorm. For now he shared with the others. Only Kilindi had a private room, a perk of being Trezza’s ward. 

Trezza. 

Trezza had been one of his master’s few acquaintances to show Maul any hint of care or companionship. He had respect for him even when he was young. Respect that Sidious had never once shown him. 

Maul had to stop his fists from clenching at his side. He looked up at Kilindi. 

“I am okay. You don’t need to watch me.” 

Kilindi kept her dark eyes on him, her striped tendrils hanging around her shoulder. He had missed her. 

“I do. If you’re concussed you might die.” 

Maul flashed her a grin with his teeth. “I’m too stubborn for that.” 

Kilindi still looked worried, but she had learned even this early in their relationship that Maul truly was one of the most stubborn people alive. 

Reluctantly she left him in the barracks. 

Maul laid back on the hard bunk and tried to find some sense in the galaxy. 

~

Daleen sat with them at breakfast in the morning, and followed he and Kilindi onto one of the outdoor training balconies. 

Maul was banned from training until he’d been cleared by the medical droid, but he still planned on at least watching practice. Kilindi was tough and strong and fast, and while Daleen would never be a warrior she was dangerous in her own way. Maul wondered if she really was a lost princess, or something similar. He’d never actually found out before. He just followed Sidious’ orders. No matter how much it cost him he did as he was told. He had belonged to his master truly and wholly now. He was no apprentice. His hopes of being one were misplaced and misguided. He was just a tool for Sidious. A knife in the dark for him to loose on his enemies. 

He’d been such a fool. A young, ignorant child. One who had thought that if he only worked hard enough, if was only fast enough, skilled enough, smart enough, he might earn his masters respect. His affection. 

He was a fool. 

Maul watched Kilindi toss Daleen onto the practice mats. They were just thick enough to keep permanent damage from being done to students. He remembered them well. He’d been thrown into them time and time again, and thrown others onto them in turn. They were well worn with blood, sweat, and tears. Orsis had stood for years. Theirs was not the first class to walk its halls or spill blood upon its floors. Likely, they would be the last. 

Maul had killed well over five hundred people that night in the future. The past. 

His past and his future were one and the same. The Force had twisted his existence in on itself, curving what had been and what would over and over each other. 

While Maul may not understand how it happened, he stood in the Orsis Academy again. It was not destroyed. His- 

His friends were not dead. 

Not yet, but his master would order him to kill them, in six years time. 

There was another problem. Maul’s master. 

Over the years Maul had learned many things. He thought he could keep his master from cottoning on too soon to what had occurred, but the fact of the matter remained that eventually Sidious would notice something was different about his apprentice. 

Eventually he would want answers. 

Eventually Maul would not be able to stop himself from trying to kill the man. 

He had taken everything from Maul. His childhood. His future. His brother- 

Savage. 

Savage still lived. On Dathomir, being groomed as a slave for the Nightsisters. As long as he lived. 

Maul started prowling around the arena where Kilindi was showing Daleen how to properly throw someone over your hit. It was all about leverage. Maul was small like this. He would need to consider that too when he started fighting. His limbs were short and weak. He was small and untested. He would have to change the way he fought. That was fine. He’d never had the raw muscle of Savage. 

He would go to him. In time. When he could manage it without getting the both of them killed. 

During his time studying what few sith and even jedi artifacts he could get his hands on, and his time devouring Nightsister lore he had learned different ways to shield his mind. Ways that would arouse far less suspicion that the iron walls he was used to constructing to protect himself. Hopefully those methods would keep Sidious from looking too close at the lurking ocean of animosity inside him. 

At this age Maul still did not hate the man. 

He admired him. He wanted only to please him. 

A fool indeed. 

“I am prepared to lose what I most value,” Sidious had told him before Hypori and his final test there. “So must you be to become a sith. You must be ready to lose your own life in order to win.”

 Maul felt Exhilarated. He was determined to prove he was the best apprentice in the history of the sith.

He’d nearly died. He’d nearly gone mad. 

Still could he feel the cold stone of the cave where he dueled his master. He fell against the wall, his body burning with rage and infection, his injured leg a source of constant agony. He struggled to breath. Even the Darkside could not banish his fever. 

Still could he hear Sidious howling with laughter. "I saw your weakness long ago. Your doubts in your own abilities. Your doubts in my teaching. Your inability to embrace the dark side. And that is why, over these long years, I have secretly trained another apprentice."

Maul had stared hard at Sidious. He hadn’t wanted to believe him. He hadn’t wanted to trust the taste of betrayal on his tongue or the coursing anger in his veins. 

"Or, poor Maul. All he ever wanted was a friend. Does it please you to know I have another apprentice? Does it make you feel less alone?" 

Breathless and in pain Maul had said, "More than one apprentice... is against rules of the sith."

"You are right," Sidious said with a grin. "A spark of intelligence, at last. My second apprentice is on the other side of the planet. He conquered all of the assassins sent after him. He only sustained a flesh wound. He is healthy. He is strong. Unlike the pathetic weakling I see before me." 

It was then that Maul realized his opponents had not really been the assassin droids. He thought of all the punishment he had endured over the past month, and then of the unending punishments of his entire life. He thought of his true opponent, the unseen adversary, chosen by Sidious to become a Sith Lord. Maul felt robbed of his past and future. And then a rage unlike anything he had ever felt before swelled through him. The rage was so overwhelming he thought it might consume him.

 No. He had thought, a boy of only seventeen, I can direct it. My rage will consume my enemy. It will consume my master. 

Glaring at Sidious, Maul saw the true face of his enemy. Sidious snickered. 

"Can you understand? Focus. If there can be only one apprentice, then one of you must die. Who do you think I have chosen to die, Maul?"

He’d attacked. He’d lost, been beaten soundly, and even at the end he’d bit the hand that had fed him, sinking his sharp teeth into Sidious’ human skin. He could still taste his blood if he tried. 

Maul wished he had killed him then.

His thoughts carried him to the voices of the holocron he’d destroyed. There was an imprint on his palm now, two pointed scars. One triangular, one square. They were burned into his skin. 

You cannot change what we have done. You will suffer-

No. 

The Sith had taken everything from him once already. He would not allow them to do it again. 

He could not take on his master yet, but perhaps he could buy himself time. With the mind guarding techniques he’d learned he could keep Sidious from realizing exactly what had happened, but he would need more than that. He tried to think. 

Daleen managed to slip Kilindi over her shoulder at last. Force. Maul hadn’t realized how much he missed them. 

He would not kill them again. Not for Sidious. He would kill no one for that man. 

Last time it had happened because Meltch Krakko had sold him out to the Nightsisters, and to slavers from Rakkata. If he could prevent that from happening perhaps he could prevent the massacre. To do that he either needed to get better at hiding his force abilities, or keep Krakko from coming to Orsis in the first place. That would irritate his master as well, who had wanted Krakko to teach Maul all along. 

Maul paused his steps. 

He liked that option more, but it would be more difficult to pull off. 

How could he keep Krakko from coming back to the Academy? If Maul recalled he’d left to join the Mandalore civil war. Death Watch. 

After he’d taken over Mandalore Maul had looked into its past. The Mandalorians were powerful warriors, who had gone toe to toe with the Jedi order in the past. His own Mandalorians had even risked themselves to rescue him when Sidious had taken him away. They hadn’t needed to. He didn’t expect them to. 

Could he really betray them? 

Maul looked down at his small hands. 

The men and women who had been under his command were all his age or younger. The only ones older were Vizla, who he’d killed, and a handful of others who had also caused him problems. He knew that Mandalorians valued children. They would not harm the people who had made up Maul’s Death Watch. 

With that small comfort in mind he began to spin his plan. 

“Kilindi,” he called, interrupting the girls spar. It was a ‘free day’, a day where trainees were free to pursue their own specialities, or do supplemental work for classes they had trouble with. The Nautolan looked over at him, her dark eyes bright. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m going to look up some current events.” 

“Oh, I’ll come with,” Daleen volunteered eagerly. She was sweaty and bruised. Her dark hair stuck to her head. Maul wondered how she could stand the feeling. 

“Why?” Maul asked with a frown. He knew they had been friends, once, but they had only known each other for a little while here.  

“Well, I know more about what’s going on in the galaxy than either of you two,” she said reasonably. “And I know how to sort through information better.” 

Maul wanted to argue with that, but at this age he was more of a warrior than anything else. If he suddenly knew all about slicing and reading under the lines, and researching things he wasn’t supposed to know it would be more than a little suspicious. 

“What are we looking for?” Kilindi asked. The three of them fell in step together and walked towards the computer labs. It felt natural. It felt right. 

It was enough to make Maul sick with grief and anger. 

He pushed those feelings down for now. 

“Mandalore.” 

“Mandalore?” Daleen cocked her head. Her dark hair fell across her cheek. “Why?” 

“Why not?” Maul retorted. She made a face at him, and he loosened, just a little bit. “There’s conflict there. I want to know what’s happening. Mandalorians are good fighters.” 

“We used to have a mandalorian instructor,” Kilindi said helpfully. “He left to fight in the civil war a few months before you came.” 

That would help him set up a timeline. 

“Who is the Mand’alor?” Maul asked, looking from one girl to the other. 

“Depends on who you ask,” Daleen said unhelpfully. “There’s two factions. The True Mandalorians, and the Death Watch. Oh, and I guess there’s New Mandalorians too, but they aren’t doing much yet.” 

“Pacifists,” Maul said, wrinkling his nose. He had respect for the mandalorians, but not for that sect. They had gutted their own culture in the worst possible way. 

They entered the lab and took the far terminals in the back. Maul let Daleen take the main chair while he sat to her left. He checked the date, for all the good it would do him. 

Most of what he knew of the Mandalorian Civil War came from the Death Watch, and his people there. Most of them would be children now, and were only repeating their parents exploits, or what parts they’d had as young teenagers. Rook Kast in particular liked to tell him about the history of her people on long travels to their allies. 

She would be an infant by this point. Maul wondered if they would see each other again. 

Daleen flicked through articles, which only so helpful, but they gave him a timeline at least. Maul tapped his fingers along his thigh. His thigh that he could feel because it was real, and he still wasn’t used to that. It was overwhelming sometimes. He’d gotten only vague sensation through his prosthetics, and though he had increased it through the force it wasn’t the same. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Kilindi teased, poking his cheek. “You’re thinking too hard.” 

Maul scowled at her, but didn’t swat the touch away like he instinctively wanted to. He knew she meant no harm to him. Even if he didn’t, the Force told him as much. 

“What are you thinking of?” Daleen asked, watching him out of the corner of her eyes. 

Maul considered his answer. How could explain what he was going to do, or why he was going to do it to the girls? He couldn’t tell them the truth. That would be insane. He halfway thought he was insane but- 

Kriff it. 

“There’s something I need to do. Someone I need to contact, but I needed to make sure I wasn’t too late.” 

“Well that’s vague and unhelpful.” 

Maul shot Kilindi a baleful look. She smiled back at him. 

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t help you. I just wanna know what we’re doing.” 

“You don’t have to help me. And you have no reason to,” he added pointedly. 

Kilindi shrugged. 

“I want to. Daleen?” 

“Same,” she nodded quickly. “And if you’re really gonna be weird about it you can pay us back later. Think of it as owing us a favor.” 

From anyone else Maul probably would have denied it on principle. 

From the two of them, he agreed with only a bit of hesitation. 

~ ~

[sisterdragonwithfeathers]

WELP I finally watched the new Mando episode

(thank goodness; it was horrible having to stay away from Tumblr so long!)

and I’ve got plenty to say and write and draw,

but first here’s some thoughts about having thoughts

(under the cut ‘cause it’s a bit of a ramble)

ahem,

 I’m not good at accepting change. I’ve gotten a little (heck what am I talking about, a LOT) better at dealing with it as I’ve grown up, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. This is true both in real life and in fiction.

 For a Star Wars example, it took me a bit to accept stuff like the Mortis arc or the Nightsisters in Clone Wars, or even the Older Clones in Rebels. Even older Ezra in season 3 took me some getting used to before I was good with him.

 Y’know what turns me around to where I can appreciate and even really enjoy these things? Time, of course, but mostly: Other Fans.

 I see people explaining the changes in personality, appreciating things I didn’t notice, writing fics and headcanons, and even just doing fanart, and I come around. I recognize that while change makes me uncomfortable, I can adapt to it, and it’s often both good and logical. Of course people change and do things I don’t expect/don’t like. They’re PEOPLE. Of course creators have different visions for their own work than I do. That’s ok.

 I’ll mostly keep my weird feelings to myself, examine what’s making me uncomfortable, make sure there’s nothing actually EVIL about it, acknowledge what just isn’t my cup of tea, then run and share the positive stuff I got from it with everyone I can.

 This is how I fandom.

[unibrowzz]

My 2020 reviews

All the cool kids were doing these so now I finally dragged my ass into doing them too lmao. 

Albania- Fall from the Sky

A song I swear cursed this whole contest from the moment it won Festivali i Këngës. Like with the shitshow this song caused I just knew the whole year was fucked. With half the fandom whining they didn’t get their first club song of the year to the other half smugly shoving it as their winner despite no other songs being around to compare it to, the whole fiasco just left me knowing that 2020 would end in tears, just hopefully not my own. As for the song, it’s lame. It’s a standard ballad with OBSCENE amounts of autotune, which is weird because the girl can actually sing pretty decently without it, so why they decided to make her sound like a damn computer is beyond me. And WHY did they translate it, haven't the past few years proven that Albania's better off leaving their songs in Albanian? 

Armenia- Chains on You

A bootleg Ariana Grande song, and a really shit one at that. The kind of song only people who think being young, gay and mean counts as having a personality would say is good.

Australia- Don’t Break Me

One of the few decent Australian entries (but that REALLY isn’t saying much coming from me, I barely care they’re in the contest by this point) but marred by a horribly untidy performance and lacklustre lyrics. At least it’s not fucking pop-opera, that’s all I can say. I’d rather listen to the sound of my face being dragged down the runway at Heathrow airport than be subjected to another Zero Gravity.

Austria- Alive

One of those pseudo-jazz dance songs, á la Olly Murs or Bruno Mars (I swear there’s a song like this in every recent contest). I mean, it’s good, but it’s just kinda meh since I’m kinda getting tired of this genre rearing its fedora-wearing head every time a new lineup rolls in.

Azerbaijan- Cleopatra

One of the “better” trashy entries this year, comprised of about five different musical genres, six ancient cultures being appropriated and absolutely zero class. Probably sounds at least 50% better when you’re absolutely steaming drunk and face down on the floor in the middle of a gay bar.

Belarus- Da Vidna

Somehow, this song sounds both very unique and original yet trite and average at the same time. I couldn’t decide whether listening to it was a new experience or if I’d heard it a million times before.

Belgium- Release Me

A song which just drones on till it ends. I would say it’s ripping off the song that won last year, but it forgot that having a chorus stops your song from being three minutes of snooze.

Bulgaria- Tears Getting Sober

A typical breathy mumble-girl song, AKA a genre I can’t fucking stand. Really don’t see the hype with this one, the melody is pretty but the vocals are out for lunch and it’s otherwise completely and utterly boring.

Croatia- Divlji Vjetre

One of the token big dramatic ballads you listen to once, enjoy, then forget about until Darius in the Discord server plays it one night whilst you’re hitting up the radio bot with requests. You’ll find that “nice, but forgettable” is a common theme for this year.

Cyprus- Running

Ironically Cyprus didn’t send a crappy Fuego knockoff for 2020, and I say ironically because a crappy Fuego knockoff would’ve actually stood out this year, and I say crappy because honestly Fuego wasn’t even all that great to begin with. "Running” itself is just one of those edgy tortured soul pop songs which, let’s be honest, would have been paired with an impressive performance which would’ve overshadowed how bland it is. Kind of like “You’re the Only One”. Or even Fuego for that matter.

Czech Republic- Kemama

Standard Afro-pop, a genre we don't often see at the contest so I'll let it pass. I feel like this is the kind of song that’s infinitely better live, and that it would’ve been one of those songs that suddenly became a frontrunner after the semi finals, but I guess we’ll never know eh?

Denmark- Yes 

The quintessential mid-10s Eurovision song. It's got guitars, happy people, Scandinavian origins… it’s just a typical radio guitar song, nothing special.

Estonia- What Love Is

I mean it's better than La Forza. Granted, the sound of someone pissing directly onto a microphone installed in the bowl of a toilet would sound better than La Forza but still. Going back to this song, it’s just... a standard Eastern-ballad with some very desperate lyrics. It feels kind of outdated, if I’m honest. Like something about this just reeks of 2011.

Finland- Looking Back

Yet another dreary, forgettable ballad. It comes to something when the best song they COULD have sent was a party song which sounded like it was from the mid 90s. At least that song was memorable. That said, this one at least has some decent lyrics. Bravo for that I guess.

France- Mon Alliée

France decides to say “fuck it” to being an underground fan-favourite and takes a leaf out of the UKs book by sending the same rent-a-Swede schlock they’ve been sending since 2015. I’m just confused as to why anyone in their right mind would choose to follow the UKs example but you do you France.

Germany- Violent Thing

A rehash of Sweden's entry from two years ago, but this time sung by Justin Bieber circa 2008. Kind of alright if you can stomach the singer's whiny voice, but otherwise pretty dull and kinda forgettable.

Greece- Superg!rl

Hello fellow kidz, we are hearing you like the girl power? The super heroes? The t3xt $p3ech? We made you song, please give us the votes *dabs*

Georgia- Take me as I Am

I mean… this sure is a choice. This feels like one of those songs that everyone memes on because the lyrics are kinda janky and the singer’s voice (and accent) take a bit of getting used to, but other than that it’s just one of those NQ songs for hipster fans to declare as their unironic winner at a later date. All in all this just feels like the male equivalent of one of those mid-10s fat acceptance women’s songs, only a lot shoutier and this time he has more flaws than not being skinny.

Iceland- Think About Things 

A bootleg George Ezra song, performed by a load of disinterested tumblr users in their pyjamas. Because if there’s one thing that sells me on a song, it’s being given the evils by a bunch of nerds who look like they’ll send me death threats for not agreeing with their Pokémon headcanons. To be fair, the song is kind of groovy since it sounds so 70s, but the performance is very off-putting to people who aren’t in the Eurovision loop. And also people who are, because I sure as Hell don’t see the appeal in this myself and this whole performance just feels like Save Your Kisses for Me without the charm. I feel like this would’ve come second or third, definitely with a lot of televotes but either the jury would’ve dragged it down or it wouldn’t have scored enough televotes to win.

Ireland- Story of my Life

A song that’s at LEAST ten years out of date by this point, think like an early Katy Perry, Jessie J or Avril Lavigne song. I’ll forgive it because even though it sounds like it should’ve been entered in 2013 (at the latest), it at least evokes some nostalgic memories of shitty school discos and holiday parks.

Israel- Feker Libi

The female equivalent of the Czech song. Unsurprisingly, people went wild for it when it was released. I guess only women are allowed to sing Afro-pop at this contest. Like with the Czech song, I’ll forgive it since Afro-pop is a cool genre anyway, and even though this is just another club song I can at least see myself dancing to it.

Italy- Fai Rumore

Well, at least my wish of “Italy sends a typical power ballad devoid of anything the mainstream fandom likes” finally came true. It was pretty refreshing to have a year where people weren’t shoving Italy’s entry up my nose left right and centre. In terms of my actual thoughts I can’t deny that the guy has a tremendous voice, but for some reason the song just doesn’t… click with me. I guess I like my male Italian singers a little more gruff and raspy, if you know what I mean. They gotta sound like they smoke at LEAST five packets of cigarettes a day for me to take notice.

Malta- All of my Love

Listen I am 100% rooting for Destiny Chukunyere to win this contest some day but man was this song a disappointment. It feels so… un-special and generic, like it gets the job done and that’s it. It’s not the stand-up-and-belt-it-out soul anthem I’d hoped for, it’s just… there.

Moldova- Prison

All I remember about this song is that it vaguely reminds me of that one Meccano song about the gypsy who makes a deal with the moon or something. And I’ve TRIED to remember more about what it sounds like, trust me.

Latvia- Still Breathing

The one horrible weird song you get every year which overuses strobe effects to the point it comes with an epilepsy warning. Would be bearable if it wasn't for the singer’s insistence that this is actually some feminist masterpiece when it's really just a self-empowerment club song about the singer fingerbanging herself over the fact she writes music.

Lithuania- On Fire

One of the songs everyone thought was going to win at one point, even though it seems like a surefire non-qualifier to me. It’s one of those weird entries, but not the kind of over the top, batshit insane, you’d-have-to-be-drunk-to-enjoy-it weird, the kind of subdued surreal weird. Like this is weed instead of LSD or cocaine weird. Granted my mom, who I consider to be a "typical" Eurofan, actually really liked this song when she saw it in the recaps, so who knows maybe this would have done well with televoters after all.

Netherlands- Grow

I appreciate this song for how artsy and clever it is with its structure, since it starts off acapella and the instrumental builds up with the song until it stops suddenly, symbolising a person’s growth from a child into an adult, and ending suddenly with their death (Geddit? The song’s called “Grow”). But it feels like the kind of song that would be lost on a Eurovision audience. The juries would have taken note, for sure, but the televote… let’s be honest, they’d have been too busy drunk voting for Russia to care about anything else.

North Macedonia- You

Well, it's better than the miserable dirge they sent last year, but given how I'd rather pleasure myself with a steak knife than listen to that song, that really isn't saying much. Going back to “You”, it really just feels like a diet version of Switzerland’s entry from last year, combined with Sweden’s song from 2018. What I’m saying is it’s your average “I’m a man in a club and I want to dance with and probably fuck this hot girl I just met” song, which I a new genre I just made up. You’re welcome.

Norway- Attention 

One of those songs you appreciate because it sounds nice and the singer has a good voice, but instantly forget because it’s really not all that interesting. If I sound like I'm repeating myself, welcome to Eurovision 2020.

Poland- Empires

“Rise Like a Phoenix” but sung by a wannabe Adele and not a mascara-wearing Jesus in a dress. Like a lot of other songs on this list, it’s just average across the board, likeable when it’s on, but instantly forgettable as soon as the next song comes on.

Portugal: Medo de Sentir

Pretty, but also similar to their ill-fated 2018 entry, only with a bit more energy and less pink hair. What I’m saying is this would have been another NQ unless the crowd who enjoy subtle ambience music come in to save it like they did with Slovenia's entry last year.

Romania- Alcohol You

See Bulgaria, because this is practically the same song. It’s just as dreary, just as badly sung (if not worse because holy shit this girl sounds like she’s being suffocated), and I suppose you COULD excuse that by saying she’s drunk or hungover… but I don’t want to listen to someone ungracefully mumble into a microphone for three minutes.

Russia- Uno

A classic big camp party song, the kind of song people who haven’t watched Eurovision since 2003 think wins on the regular. I can see why people would like it (especially in this boring year lmao, I applaud Russia for taking the opportunity to loosen their corset and just send a complete mess instead of their usual clinical vote grabs), but it’s just not something I enjoy. It's the song that plays into the misconception that Eurovision is just a clown show for drunk people, like this is just here to be that one flash-in-the-pan meme song that only entertains people who don’t really care about Eurovision until the day before it airs. Kind of like the old ladies they sent in 2012 (remember them?).

San Marino- Freaky!

San Marino, in true Sammarinese fashion, have yet again sent a decade-ambiguous song which sounds like it was either released in 1978 or 2003. I feel like this would have been one of those songs which could have surprised us if it had a really wacky, creative performance (think like Moldova in 2018), but this is San Marino so you know that would never happen.

Serbia- Hasta la Vista

Insert unoriginal joke about a decade wanting their shitty trend back right here. Okay maybe that’s a bit harsh, especially considering how this song is actually, yanno, unique in comparison to the rest of this year. But it still feels weirdly dated, in a way where I can’t decide whether it sounds like it belongs in 1998 or 2018. I suppose girl power ages a song regardless of when it was released.

Slovenia- Voda

Yet another standard Balkan-European power ballad which you appreciate because it’s well sung, but forget the moment it ends because it’s kinda boring. … Does anyone else have a bit of deja vu?

Spain- Universo

For some reason I feel like this song is shilling itself out to someone but I have no idea who. Aside from the horny people voting solely because the singer is moderately attractive even with that wretched Jedward haircut.

Sweden- Move

Imagine soul but… boring.

Switzerland- Répondez Moi

Imagine Arcade but… in French.

United Kingdom- My last Breath

Not the best the UK could have done, but it’s at least a modern offering unlike the residual dregs of the mid-90s that we sent throughout the 2010s. It’s definitely a bit too generic to have done any better than maybe 15th, but hey at least the cancellation means we won’t have to see it not do as well as the BBC thinks it’s entitled to do, prompting a billion clickbait articles about how Brexit somehow affected our performance.

Ukraine- Solovey

At long last we come to something you probably weren't expecting: a song I actually really like. Which is weird because I usually don't care for or don't like whatever Ukraine vomits into the contest, so I was pleasantly surprised to find a song I liked from them in such a weak year. This song isn’t for everyone, it’s white noise singing which is a very acquired taste, but this is honestly the only 2020 song I find myself coming back to over and over. And it’s in Ukrainian too, so you don’t have to put up with their usual mangled English offerings.

[gffa]

HERE’S WHY THE 2017 MAUL COMIC IS PRETTY AMAZING ACTUALLY: It’s such an unreliable narrative structure, because Maul himself is an unreliable narrator, in addition to showing us how Force-sensitives are treated by the galaxy and how the galaxy bombards them, just by their existence.  They’re literally auctioning off a Jedi Padawan for whatever terrible things you want to do to her or use her for, because that’s how Force-sensitive people are treated by the criminals of the GFFA.  They know the potential of them, so of course they’d want to buy them and torture them into being their pet whatevers.  See also: Bounty hunters kidnapping baby Force-sensitives like Ahsoka in order to sell them for a lot of money. But also we see that Maul is surrounded by all this fear and anger and anxiousness, it flows through him, and he thinks that it must be just absolutely drowning Eldra, because that’s what being a psychic is like.  That’s why the Jedi say over and over again that emotions are normal and shouldn’t be suppressed, but you have to control yourself, because you’ll get lost in those feelings otherwise.  We see right here that the Force connects them to these feelings and amplifies them, that unless the Jedi has an incredibly disciplined mind, unless she has Mastery over herself, she’ll drown in the feelings of others.  Or they’ll drown in hers--just as Ahsoka briefly did in Rebels when connected to Vader’s hate, just as Ezra caused the fyrnocks to attack because of his fear and anger. Even further still, Maul is an amazing example of someone who doesn’t understand himself and projects like whoa.  He thinks this Jedi Padawan must be so terrified to see him, but the most we really get is surprise and wariness.  When Eldra realizes what he is, when she’s face to face with him, even when she’s bound and he has a lightsaber, she’s still right in his face, she’s more fierce and determined than scared. But we already know that Eldra’s right about Maul--he’s the one who’s scared.  When she challenges him to fight as an equal, he immediately lashes out, she’s not his equal!  No Jedi can match his fury or his skill!  (Another thing we know is straight up wrong, considering that Obi-Wan Kenobi defeats him as a Padawan and then doesn’t even get winded before cutting him down in Rebels.)  Maul says, “And then I will have my revenge.” when we already saw the flashback of how warped and twisted his flashbacks are, not just narratively (though, that too, very much) but art-wise to really hammer it home.  The stretched out, warped figures of his vision, the tiny Maul (because he is the one who is small) having this laid upon him, how he cannot admit to the terrible, horrific abuse Sidious is piling on him, so instead he channels it into projecting that fear onto others.  When we know that the Sith are not some innocent victims, that they have done evil, horrible things just by the nature of their mindsets and how they connect to the Force.  (And word of god.) It’s a fascinating look into the GFFA for Force-sensitives, but also it’s a look at Maul’s character that really gives me a lot of feelings, that he can be both this terrifying person who does these monstrous things, but you also so clearly see the traumatized child he once was, that he turned to the dark side to survive and embraced it so thoroughly, that that spark of who he once was, who he could have been if the Jedi had gotten him first, is almost impossible to see unless you see the whole scope of his life. But it is there.  As I go further along in Star Wars fandom, I grow all these Maul feelings because look at him, look at that child in Sidious’ grasp, the tiny fearful face as he’s bombarded with all these horrible images, how he’s warped into being this hateful, terrified person because that’s the only way he could survive what Sidious was doing to him.  How it’s so woven into his bones that he can’t even see what he’s doing, that his humanity still tries to peek out now and again, to show just how afraid he is, how there is a very real person underneath the dark side he cloaks himself in, and how all other paths have been beaten out of him. This is why the Age of Republic comic being a follow-up to this hit me so hard.  Seeing Maul with Jedi robes, seeing people being grateful for his help, and how he rejects it because he’s TERRIFIED of having better options, terrified of looking to a better path, terrified of admitting that the abuse he suffered from Sidious was for nothing, that it didn’t make him stronger, that he was a victim instead of a badass Lord of the Sith?  OH MY GOD SO MANY MAUL FEELINGS AND I JUST WANT HIM TO FIND PEACE.  And it’s heartbreaking that the only smidgen of it that he got was when he died, when he just barely trusted Obi-Wan Kenobi to avenge them both, via whoever it was that he was protecting on Tatooine.

[alizrak]

Thrawn Treason Review

You know me. You know how much I love Thrawn and Zahn, but I’ll try to be as objective as I can with this.

At first I was going to give it a 8/10 but having these few days to go over my feelings and putting the issues I found to words, I believe I’ll have to make that a 7.5/10.  I liked Treason, but I liked Thrawn and Alliances better.

This is my spoiler free review comparison:

Thrawn 2017 - 9/10 I loved the heart this book. Just watching the struggles that Thrawn and Eli faced to get to the top was worth it. I was surprised by the revelations and implications the story had for the Galaxy at large… but especially by how emotionally charged the ending was.

Alliances - 8/10 Anakin and young Thrawn were amazing and so fun. There were several emotional scenes and a HUGE setting up for potential story lines now that we know Ezra and Thrawn are lost out there in the UR, but I’ll be honest and say I had a few problems with some slow parts.

Treason - 7.5/10 What I loved about Treason were the characters. I wish we could have explored them more but the plot didn’t allow it. If I had one request for Zahn in the next book it would be less math, more character development. There are other issues but I’ll explain them below the cut.

Now, the full review:

 [SPOILERS FROM THRAWN, ALLIANCES, OUTBOUND FLIGHT AND TREASON AHEAD]

Positive:

The story was very fast paced. There was always something going on, people doing a thing, going places, trying to stay a step ahead, not a moment to spare. Some parts from the previous books felt like they were dragging their feet so this was a change of pace. 

The book was mostly serious compared to the hilarity we got from Anakin and Thrawn, and even Vader and Thrawn in the last book, although there are a few fun gems too with Ronan and how everyone reacts to Krennic.

Zahn also did a splendid job to establish the grysk as a -real- threat. In Alliances I couldn’t help but feel the Grysk were too similar to the Vagaari but with more black mail. Now, we get to partially see how they keep their slave/clients in control which is… scary. Really scary. I even think there might be some Force domination at work but I guess the only way to be sure would be for Ezra to confirm it if he ever gets to meet them in the future with Thrawn.

The book it’s at its strongest when the main characters interact. I liked the personality of the new characters and they feel very distinctive from one another. Ronan was a rollercoaster of “I like him- I hate him”. Ar'alani was amazing to have back after reading her in Outbound Flight. Every time she talked with Thrawn, Eli or Faro it was a top notch experience. 

Faro is having second thoughts on her competence because she thinks she might have let down Thrawn in some way, Eli continues to be the goodest space cowboi in the Galaxy which I love and cherish, and Thrawn… well, Thrawn is Thrawn, which is both good and bad. Also the new Chiss girl was interesting but I hoped we could have learned more of them.

My issues:

The plot quickly shifts from a politically charged bet to get rid of pests, to a big conspiracy to con resources out of Stardust, to overly complicated battle plans against an invasion force that you must follow closely word by word to try to visualize and understand what is happening... or you will get lost. That’s going to be a problem for a lot of people. I struggled.

I actually felt tense and exhausted because there was no chance to catch your breath before we got another invisible Grysk ship or complicated puzzle to solve with science. When Thrawn explains a plan I honestly feel like I’m getting a class on astrophysics and thermodynamics. I didn’t need every little detail of how everything will work down to the angles because I started to get lost. Looking back I realize that perhaps a good third of the book might be comparing data, analyzing said data, making an intricate mathematical plan, revising the data and applying it. I commend Zahn for his amazing descriptions at how they get to a solution, but even for me it was a little too much. I feel a bunch of that time could have been used to develop a few other issues that we were misled to expect…

For example, we were technically lied in the premise of the book. The premise at the back was the one it was marketed by the publishers and SWs and speaks how Eli seeks out Thrawn to warn him about a big problem in Csilla… and that never happens. Not even close. They stumble into each other by accident when their respective “prey” encounter each other. That was a let down. I expected more information on Csilla and interactions between Eli and Thrawn. In fact, they were barely in the same room, let alone... alone. I’m starting to fear steps were taken from high up to tell Zahn to “tone them down”, going as far as hinting a possible female interest for Eli because Eli and Thrawn have undoubtedly gained certain popularity. I’d think this is the case, as even Zahn wrote Eli wondering why was Thrawn being so aloof towards him and chalking up to having to be professional in public. That’s too much of a coincidence. In any case, many of us came hoping to see how their friendship from the first book had evolved after such a long time... but it just fell flat.

Next is the inconsistencies with time. Those who are also fans of Rebels know that from the moment Thrawn leaves Lothal a number of events happen that critically endangered the TIE Defender project. We get at the beginning of the book one such scene: Thrawn speaking with Tarkin, asking him to come to Coruscant. We get it from Faro’s pov, allowing us to have another look at that talk and a little more of Thrawn’s insight on what might happen if they leave Pryce in charge. He assumes the Rebels will attempt to rescue Hera and might succeed given Pryce is emotionally compromised. The moment Thrawn left Lothal, a timer started in my head to the next scene linked to these events in Rebels: the very next day Thrawn would have a holocall and confront Pryce for her incompetence, he would look more than just displeased… he would be angry. A type of frustration that carried on to the finale where he seems ‘incredibly done’ with everything and he’s trying to salvage the situation as best as he can. That’s… that’s a big thing if we are talking about Thrawn. 

As a lover of Rebels and the Thrawn books I expected to get the answer that explained why Thrawn was acting like that. So, as the plot developed, battles were won, puzzles were solved and treasons were unearthed, I started to realize the book was running out. I wondered if something would happen at the end that messed everything up and his call with Pryce would be the last strand. But there was no call. The book ended. A whole week had somehow passed already. I was aghast. At no point it felt we were witnessing the events of several days. The book talked of hours passing by so I assumed this would be “Thrawn and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day”… but instead he seems satisfied with the results even though he lost the bet on a technicality and, just like that, Thrawn states he must return to Lothal in the brevity. So in the end, Thrawn simply gets a holo meeting with the Emperor who is not exactly satisfied with his results and questions a his loyalty a little, so they will talk about that after Thrawn gets the Jedi chamber into the Chimaera and brings back Ezra to him. Aaaand the book ends. I was… stunned.

There were no answers here. And Zahn didn’t seem to align the most important story arc of Rebels and how it affects Thrawn other than a mention at the beginning and the very end. For someone who is painfully detail oriented with their battles, this was a huge oversight. You could even argue this plot could have happened at any point in S4 but Zahn saw an opportunity to patch it right after Jedi Night. 

In any case. While we get a few lovely scenes with Eli and the Chiss… there’s one thing that has become what I regard as emotional highlight for the last few Thrawn books: even though Thrawn wins, he loses something that you could regard as personal. In Thrawn (2017) he loses Nightswan, a rival and almost an equal he hoped could become and ally, as well as “losing” Eli by doing the best for him by sending him away. In Alliances he let’s go of Anakin, both in the past and the hope that he can bring him back in the present. Even more importantly, in Outbound Flight he loses Thrass. But there’s no such thing here. Thrawn wins the battle but loses the funding bet and still doesn’t look phased.

Also, compared to the previous books, there was no point in which Thrawn wasn’t in control of the situation. In the first book Thrawn was a little at a loss with the politics and society which is why Eli was always doing his best to help him. In Alliances, the real danger was the possibility of Vader having the last word on whether or not help him retrieve the girls and stop the Grysk. It was something out of his control, and it showed. I hoped the third book was Thrawn facing an impossible choice, hence Treason. But it wasn’t. It was Thrawn slightly bending Imperial protocol and rules like we are used to by now. I suppose that’s on me. I wished we had seen *something* that Thrawn can't face with logic. Treason ends there, just as Ezra was about to become that *something* immediately after you close the book. 

Overall, the enjoyment of this book may vary at certain points if you don’t like math battles or care too much about the timeline. I don’t feel there wasn’t any big revelation like in the two previous books like Thrawn saying there were bigger threats than the Empire lurking int he UR and that he playing the long game to replace the Emperor. In Alliances we got the bomb with the Chiss navigators and how their powers work different than the rest of Force Users. I don’t feel anything in Treason gets to that level. Nothing happens that changes your perception of the Galaxy at large or even the story that was happening parallel to it Rebels. You could arguably skip this book but you would be missing some great Eli, Faro and Ar’alani content that makes this book truly shine.

I’ll reread it soon but now I’ll likely skip on the battles and focus on the characters because ELI IS JUST THE BEST AND YOU ALL KNOW IT. xD

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Eliza you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Sirius Black

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Sirius Black is a character held very close to my heart, and let me say that when your application came through we were obsessed! You capture him so well, I found myself so drawn in with every new section. From your explanation of him as a character to your headcanons and question responses, it’s obvious to us that you love him as much as we do and will write him beautifully. We’re so excited to see you join us, welcome to the group! *Your faceclaim change to Matthew Daddario has been accepted.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Introduction: I’m Eliza, I’m 22, and my preferred pronouns are she/her.

Activity: I’m currently in my final year of uni, so aside from any sudden tsunami of work (always possible) I’m legit doing nothing except sitting on my laptop trying to figure out how to procrastinate my Commodus essay. So, uh, high.

How did you find us? through the marauders era tag, I think!

Anything else? Nothing that I can think of.

IN CHARACTER

Desired character: Sirius Orion Black – Orion for his father. Sirius is a family name; he’s technically Sirius Black the Third, but that’s not something he likes to shout about.

Birthday / star sign: Sirius was born on November 3rd 1960, which makes him a Scorpio, and if you need anymore proof that astrology is real I don’t know what to tell you.

Occupation:

Bartender. Sirius doesn’t need to work – his Uncle Alphard made sure of that – but he learned the hard way that nothing’s worse for his mental health than sitting around all day, picking at old wounds. He works at a bar just off Diagon Alley, wizarding, except for the occasional lost confused muggle. He’s good at his job; he likes to talk to customers, he enjoys small-talk, and he makes a killer martini – plus, it’s the perfect position to be in to gather information. He’s friendly with his boss, and on the second floor there’s a large room that is the perfect size for meetings of a book club. A very special book club, with no books.

Faceclaim:

I absolutely love Miles, but finding gifs for him is tough – could I use Matthew Daddario instead? (or, if you hate him, Aidan Turner or Harry Styles or Ezra Miller?)

Reason for chosen character:

This is actually the last part of the application I’m filling in – I’ve spent ages trying to figure out how to answer this question. Why did I pick Sirius? I can write him well, that’s true, I have a proper handle on his voice and how I think he’d react in most situations, but it’s more than that. I think that Sirius, in any marauders era rp, has the greatest possibility for plots; he’s extroverted, has a finger in basically every pie, and his future looks pretty bloody dreadful from a canon perspective, which is something I love. Give me all the blood and tears you can and I’m happy. Besides, I like Sirius. I think he’s a good man at heart, but his flaws are so immense that he’s fascinating to write. So I guess I picked him because I’d like to be his friend, but would hate him at the same time, and that’s all you want in a character, really.

In this section you should also describe the character and how you see them.

Inherently, Sirius is a man with many flaws that often overwhelm him. He is trying to be good, but not always succeeding. He enjoys the pain of others too much for comfort; he can switch to cruelty in an instant when threatened. He has much less of a conscience than James does – in fact, many would say that James functions as his conscience, that the two of them are two parts of one whole. When, at sixteen, he finally left the Black family for good, he cut them off in his mind as well as in practice, finding it easier to cope with the pain if he forced the world into black and white instead of shades of grey. It is only as he gets older that he is beginning to see the difficulties of choice facing his cousins – but his pride won’t let him admit such a thing. He was brought up with all the prejudices that came with the Black family name; his parents, though not Death Eaters, were violent people, viciously against muggles and muggleborns. He’s certain that his father at least is a murderer, and knows that they rejoice in the insanity of his cousin Bellatrix and all that brings with it.

The main way Sirius coped with the loss of his family was by demonising the lot of them. That isn’t, in a way, incorrect: the Blacks were and are at the forefront of the Death Eaters, and Sirius was always too compassionate to easily accept that ideology. But equally he refuses to see any good in them. Anyone who is even neutral in the war turns his stomach. He cannot understand the difficulty of choosing between your morals and your family – after all, he did it, didn’t he? He sees fighting as the only moral option, and that puts him in conflict not just with Death Eaters, but with other bystanders too.

Preferred ships // Character sexuality // Gender & Pronouns:

Bisexual | cis male | he/him

Preferred ships: I’m a sucker for wolfstar, but honestly anything with chemistry works for me. If you can come up with a horribly angsty plot, so much the better, because Sirius is not lucky in love.

Details:

Walburga and Orion had a happy marriage, but it was not one that set a good example to their son in terms of love. They never showed affection in public – Sirius never saw them so much as hold hands; when, as he was storming out of Grimmauld Place for the final time when he was sixteen, he saw his father place a hand on Walburga’s shoulder, he knew that he had truly gone too far to turn back. Their affection was based on fierce loyalty, concurrent goals and ideology, and matching intelligence that they both passed down to their eldest son, but they treated each other only with cold respect in front of their children. With no model of domestic harmony to fall back on, Sirius has never been very emotionally capable. Passionate by nature but always unsure of the affection of others, he tended at Hogwarts to fall into a pattern of obsession and then rejection that had him labelled a womaniser.

Sirius’s love for boys – it is a love for boys, he’s long since accepted that; at first he told himself it was just because he liked sex, but that theory’s been scuppered over and over again – is something that he is relatively open about. He is lucky in that his group of friends are quite accepting; even those who don’t understand the sexual revolution that has been happening in the last decade see it as another of his quirks, oh, that’s just Sirius. His self-confidence, as fuelled by the Marauders, has meant that he has rarely struggled with his sexuality – it’s another thing his family would hate him for, and therefore something else to be proud of.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER

Potential plots:

1. James Potter:

James and Sirius are two parts of one whole – Sirius sees him, with typical casual self-deprecation, as the sunlight to his own shadow. Sirius is hardly the sort of person to let anyone take a curse if he’s in the vicinity, but for James Sirius is pretty sure he’d do anything. Not only did James complete the transformation, already begun through his parents’ cruelty, of Sirius from Pureblood supremacist to fully-fledged blood traitor, but also makes him the best person he can be. Around James, all of Sirius’s rough edges are smoothed out; he’s at his funniest, and also at his kindest. They see each other every day, people take the absolute piss, and Sirius loves it.

2. Remus Lupin:

Ah, Remus. Sirius has been in love with a lot of people throughout his life – he can’t help it, he’s a Scorpio – but Remus, well, he lingered. Not that Sirius would say anything, and he spends half his time mocking his friend so thoroughly that no one suspects, and anyway, he’s over it, obviously, times five hundred. But there it is – Remus Lupin, lingering.

They work well together, is all. Remus looks blankly at him every time he makes a bad joke, which is excellent for Sirius’s ego; when Remus wakes up bloodied and furious with himself and the world, Sirius is there, feet up on the bottom of his bed, bottle of water in one hand and cigarette in the other. Remus knows that Sirius secretly likes to read, curled up in his kitchen with a mug of strong coffee, and Sirius knows how Remus likes his gin (strong, expensive). They might not be like James and Sirius, but they can sit in silence for hours, and a lot of the time, that’s all Sirius needs.

3. Regulus Black:

For a long time, Regulus was Sirius’s only friend – something he now says in a tone that’s supposed to be funny, but no one really laughs. A large part of Sirius, larger than he’d like to admit, knows how similar they are, how easily he could have been like Reg, had he not been the heir and subject to more pressure, had he not had James, and for a while he tried to be James to Regulus. But it was fruitless; perhaps it always would have been. Every so often they see each other, and it makes Sirius want to go and drink for five days – usually he then does.

4. Aversio

Sirius was an obvious choice for Aversio recruitment – not only is his cousin Andromeda a member, but he has often vocally and emphatically (and sometimes violently) declared his dissatisfaction with the Order. Weighed down by bureaucracy and occasionally the very prejudices they claim to fight against, Sirius sees the Order as a useless, bloated organisation, too afraid to do anything except wave placards in the air outside the Ministry. He has taken part in several Aversio attacks, but keeps his involvement entirely secret, except from other members. He is suspected, of course, and doesn’t like to openly lie, but there’s no proof; he’s still a member of the Order on the surface. He sees fighting fire with fire as a moral choice – to do anything other than the utmost is to betray the cause, and to be no better than the enemy.

Mini-headcanons:

nicknames padfoot

star sign scorpio

mbti ESFP, the Entertainer

greek mythological counterpart Poseidon, god of the sea, of earthquakes, of storms and horses, protector of seafarers, associated with drowning and madness.

season autumn

deadly sin pride

heavenly virtue liberality

element fire

flower gladiolus. Gladioli symbolise strength of character, faithfulness and honour, as well as remembrance and infatuation, with a bouquet conveying to a recipient that they pierce the giver’s heart with passion.

colour storm-grey

wand elm wood, unicorn hair, 11 inches, excellent for hexes

patronus black dog

early bird or night owl night owl

greatest fear rejection by his found family

secret superstition has a terrible habit of crossing his fingers while he sleeps to ward off bad dreams

small facts

Sirius can ice skate. He can play the piano. He can ballroom dance. He can make a wicked spaghetti bolognese. He likes to read, but can’t write to save his life; his handwriting is something close to incomprehensible. He has an average singing voice, he loves muggle music, and he wishes that he was born a Beatle. When he was fifteen years old he lost his virginity to a distant French cousin of James’s somewhere behind the Potters’ Quidditch pitch. He has been in love, at various points in his school career, with Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, Glenda Chittock, and probably Minerva McGonagall. He hates anything that tastes like nuts, won’t touch sugar quills, and changes his hairstyle every three days. You can tell that he’s unhappy because he retreats inwards, goes quiet, stormy. He likes Quidditch but prefers motorcycles, much to James’s disgust. He thinks marriage is a scam, but secretly wants children desperately. He loves cats, but they hate him. He would die for his friends.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

Do you think it is more important to be feared or loved? Which would you rather be?

SIRIUS: Loved, for sure. Who’d say feared? Being feared is awful; there’s nothing more toxic. It wraps itself around your lungs like a sickness, like clove cigarette smoke, and twists you all up inside until it’s all you lust after, that look in someone’s eyes when they’re afraid of you. No, that’s not for me – I couldn’t trust myself not to want more. Love is good enough.

What is one thing you would never want said about you?

SIRIUS: That I was boring. Can you imagine? You’re sitting there, in your Hufflepuff scarf (you’re definitely a Hufflepuff in this scenario), and you’re eavesdropping on some older, way cooler students (one of them is especially dashing) and they say that they got trapped in conversation with you on Tuesday and couldn’t get away. They wanted to get away from you because you bored them to tears. I think I’d rather die than be in that position. You know what they say – all huff, no puff. Or something. Do they say that? They should.

If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it!

SIRIUS: oh, I’d absolutely invent a cure for lycanthropy. I don’t know if it’d be a charm, or a potion – probably a charm, because Lupin’s the worst at taking potions on time, and he’s the only werewolf I give a fuck about. Wait, did he not say that? Did he forget he was a werewolf? What, and I’m here, slaving over a cauldron, wasting my life away in this dingy basement (obviously I’m brewing this world-changing potion in a basement, by torchlight, also for some weird reason I’m wearing a full-length black robe?) like Nicholas fucking Flamel? I swear to God –

What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

SIRIUS: it’s not necessarily that I find making decisions hard. I make decisions fast, and find it hard to go back on them. It’s more that – well, making the correctdecisions is difficult.

When I was sixteen – and I’m not introducing my age because I think it excuses it; it doesn’t, I’m just trying to set the damn scene – I made a mistake that could have – well, I was going to say it could have destroyed my friendships, but it was more than that. It could have made me a murderer, and Remus too. I’m only telling you this because I am assuming it will never go any further than the two of us. I don’t tell other people’s secrets.

I hated Severus Snape from our first day at Hogwarts. He was arrogant, and he was nasty, and he was clearly in deep with the dark arts, which I don’t hold with. Prongs hated him too, for other reasons that he’ll probably tell you considering he takes any opportunity to go on about Evans. And sixth year was shit. Again, that isn’t an excuse – but that’s what my mindset was, that autumn. My uncle Alphard had just died. I knew that I would never see my brother again, and traitor that he was, he was – is – still my brother. I came back to Hogwarts in September and it felt like a dark cloud had just broken over my head. It wouldn’t go away. I’m going to put this bluntly, because it’s how I do things best – Remus is a werewolf. That’s relevant.

In November, we all knew Snape was sniffing around. Moony had been off at the beginning of the month, and it had been a shit full moon; I wasn’t in a good enough place to control him as well as I should’ve been, and we were all roughed up the next day, Moony the worst. Prongs had a nasty black eye, as I remember; I had a cut up face, Peter was limping. Snape had been watching us. We were all on edge; he’d been close to figuring out Moony’s secret for years, and we knew that if he found proof he’d spread it all around the school. He’d want Remus out – expelled, or worse. As December grew closer, we grew worse. We were snapping at each other, we were getting close to fights every damn evening. Moony was pale and ill the entire month, there wasn’t even the usual grace period between moons. It felt like everything was bad.

The full moon was on December 2nd. That day, James and I had had a catastrophic fight about everything and nothing – we bickered like fucking lovers back then. I bumped into Snape at the bottom of the Astronomy tower, and I – I told him where to find Remus.

God, I regretted it. I regretted it immediately. But even then, even though I knew it was wrong, I hadn’t figured it all out. I’ve always been bad at seeing consequences. When I found James and told him, I was laughing. I thought we’d give Snape a scare – then he’d never bother us again. James has always been a better man than me; he knew immediately what would happen. Remus would kill Snape, or bite him – we weren’t sure which was worse. James went after him. He saved his life. Snape wasn’t grateful, the fucker, but I – well.

Remus forgave me first. He shouldn’t have; I didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t give less of a shit if Snape dies, but Remus would have been affected; I would’ve made a killer out of him. But we could never fight for long; we don’t give each other the silent treatment. I think Remus would forgive me anything. James, on the other hand, took months. Even now, he looks at me different. That’s the sort of decision I’d take back in an instant. That’s the sort of decision I find hard to make.

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

Sirius would be right up there with Amelia and Dirk at the Quidditch match – he fiercely believes that Aversio has the right way forward, and especially after the Order’s apparent dismissal of Edgar Bones’s disappearance (Sirius sees everything other than intense passion as dismissal), he’s feeling even more frustrated and disenfranchised. He would absolutely be helping Marlene and James, though likely getting in the way somewhat, given his tendency to go in all guns blazing (all wands blazing?) when it comes to his family. Fuck Bellatrix is his phrase of the week…well, the month. The year?

I don’t know if Sirius would take direct part in the actual mission to rescue Edgar – it probably makes more sense rp-wise if he didn’t, maybe because the others don’t trust him (though I don’t know if James would leave him behind). Either way, Ed’s return is a positive for two reasons – one, Sirius likes the bloke, and two, he’s hoping he can use Ed’s rescue as a concrete example of Aversio doing better than the Order. Politics, mate.

WRITING SAMPLE

Sirius Black was up a tree.

He didn’t spend a lot of time up trees, as a rule. But it was the first of September, and as such he was avoiding people - and in the Potter household, the only place it was feasible to be alone was in the branches of the huge oak tree in the grounds, out by the Quidditch pitch. He’d climbed it, hands slipping on the wet bark, about an hour previously, and he was starting to shiver.

It was unseasonably cold for September. The wind whistled through the leaves of the trees and caught at his hair, tangling it into messy curls; he huffed and pushed it out of his face and let the rain sweep down in huge sheets. He imagined it washing his features away, leaving him with nothing but a blank canvas which he could paint over, inscribe new eyes, a new nose, a new mouth. Maybe he would make himself a Potter. He closed his eyes and imagined them hazel and bright instead of grey and sharp, and knew he was being fanciful. In the Black household, being fanciful was on a par with dreaming below your station, and Sirius, though naturally imaginative, couldn’t shake that last remnant of his mother’s distaste.

He opened his eyes and watched the water drip off his eyelashes in diamond flashes. He was freezing. Surely, he thought, somewhat bitterly, if this was meant to be a formative moment in his life the world would allow him a few more moments to be at least healthily warm so that he could get his musings into better shape. But it was not to be: he was starting to shake, and even he couldn’t pretend to be fine much longer.

Below him, a figure was struggling through the wind, down the sloping grass from the front door. “Sirius!” the figure howled into the combative weather, the wind tossing his voice away towards the lake. “Oi! Black! Are you completely fucking insane?! Get inside, it’s half-eight! Mum’s made bacon!”

Bacon - now that, at least, jerked Sirius out of his stupid melancholy mood. He slid gracefully down the trunk of the tree and landed with a thump and a squelch of mud in front of his friend, who glared at him through rain-speckled glasses.

“I,” he explained, with dignity, “was having life-changing thoughts.”

“Brilliant,” snapped James, in a manner that suggested it most definitely was not. “But Catchlove’s tits can wait, Black, because I’m starving.”

[julianlapostat]

Populism in Shakespeare and ASOIAF: Crisis of Institutions

This will be the last of my ASOIAF/Shakespeare metas/juxtapositions. I hope to return again with more, but in so far as I want to expand our understanding of Shakespeare and how ASOIAF connects to it in expected and unexpected ways, and expanding outside the usual plays, this is a stopping point, one from which I might begin again at some later date, or others might do so. This post considers populism and how GRRM represents it and how it compares it with Shakespeare’s take on the subjects.  (ABOVE playbill showing a RSC production of Coriolanus, below the Roman General’s westerosi “ son semblable, — son frère! ” Victarion Greyjoy).

In ASOIAF we have two elections represented on page. One is the Night Watch election in ASOS, and the other is the Kingsmoot in AFFC. Both of these are elections but neither can be considered democratic by 20th Century definitions. The Night’s Watch elections is restricted to the Watch only, and the Kingsmoot elections is restricted to men, noble lords, captain, and there’s no secret ballot whatsoever. William Shakespeare’s plays are generally considered monarchical in setting. Two of his plays however are set in the Roman Republic: Julius Caesar, most famously, and the other is Coriolanus. The Roman Republic is not democratic by contemporary standards either. The parallel between Caesar and the Night’s Watch Story Arc of AFFC/ADWD is I think quite obvious. The parallel of Coriolanus, I argue is with the Kingsmoot and that’s what I will consider.

From Shakespeare’s plays, despite some arguments and support by a few critics, there is very little sense that the author was attracted to a democracy or a republic. Most of William Shakespeare’s plays are set in monarchies, duchies, and aristocratic settings.The exceptions including the Venetian Plays (merchant of Venice/Othello) which is set in the slaveowning oligarchical city-state. Then you have the Roman histories which chronologically arranged (Coriolanus, Julius Caesar, Antony and Cleopatra) shows the decay and fall of the Roman Republic and Birth of Empire. Some of Shakespeare’s history plays represents Parliament, but the two prominent instances feature Parliament used as an instrument of usurpation -- Richard II (where the King is deposed by Bolingbroke in a scene that was apparently censored) and Richard III which has the famous scene of Parliament legitimizing the villain’s usurpation with the acclamation: “God bless Richard, England’s Royal King”. In Shakespeare, charismatic authority subverts institutions, subverts norms, and legitimizes abuses, and the latter are shown weak to accommodate the former. 

In contrast, ASOIAF, from the very beginning has an institutional focus and in so far charismatic authority exists in the series it is shown critically and parodically. The Long Decade of Peace of Robert’s Rebellion is credited not to King Robert, but to Jon Arryn, and the Small Council. As Hand of the King, Ned Stark is aghast at Littlefinger’s report on the crown’s debt. Shakespeare being a man who lived in a late-medieval-early-modernizing Kingdom i.e. between the old and the new still believed in the concept of “King’s Two Bodies” since he passed his life as a subject of Queen Elizabeth and King James I, but ASOIAF is written by a 20th Century American in the Neoliberal ‘90s. @racefortheironthrone​ made a similar point when comparing Tyrion post-Blackwater and Henry V. The focus on institutions in ASOIAF becomes stronger in the books that follow, especially ASOS - AFFC - ADWD. It is in these books that the focus of ASOIAF shifts away from families, from houses to institutions: we have The Sparrows, the Brotherhood without Banners, the Citadel, the Golden Company, the Night’s Watch, the Brazen Beasts, the Windblown. Even the Small Council, the institution from Book 1 sees changes under Cersei, the offices are renamed and given new titles, the Hand is made into a Rump in place of the Lady Regent.

The moment that signals this shift in focus can be summarized in a simple phrase, “No moot but the kingsmoot”. In the second chapter of the Book (THE PROPHET):

“The iron king is dead! Yet a king will come again! For what is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger!” “A king shall rise!” the drowned men cried. “He shall. He must. But who?” The Damphair listened a moment, but only the waves gave answer. “Who shall be our king?” The drowned men began to slam their driftwood cudgels one against the other. “Damphair!” they cried. “Damphair King! Aeron King! Give us Damphair!” Aeron shook his head. “If a father has two sons and gives to one an axe and to the other a net, which does he intend should be the warrior?” “The axe is for the warrior,” Rus shouted back, “the net for a fisher of the seas.” “Aye,” said Aeron. “The god took me deep beneath the waves and drowned the worthless thing I was. When he cast me forth again he gave me eyes to see, ears to hear, and a voice to spread his word, that I might be his prophet and teach his truth to those who have forgotten. I was not made to sit upon the Seastone Chair . . . no more than Euron Crow’s Eye. For I have heard the god, who says, No godless man may sit my Seastone Chair!” The Merlyn crossed his arms against his chest. “Is it Asha, then? Or Victarion? Tell us, priest!” “The Drowned God will tell you, but not here.” Aeron pointed at the Merlyn’s fat white face. “Look not to me, nor to the laws of men, but to the sea. Raise your sails and unship your oars, my lord, and take yourself to Old Wyk. You, and all the captains and the kings. Go not to Pyke, to bow before the godless, nor to Harlaw, to consort with scheming women. Point your prow toward Old Wyk, where stood the Grey King’s Hall. In the name of the Drowned God I summon you. I summon all of you! Leave your halls and hovels, your castles and your keeps, and return to Nagga’s hill to make a kingsmoot!” The Merlyn gaped at him. “A kingsmoot? There has not been a true kingsmoot in . . .” “. . . too long a time!” Aeron cried in anguish. “Yet in the dawn of days the ironborn chose their own kings...Listen! Listen to the waves! Listen to the god! He is speaking to us, and he says, We shall have no king but from the kingsmoot!”

There is a crisis in the Iron Islands, and in that crisis, the main source for relief is directed to institutions, in this case the traditional Kingsmoot.

To return to Shakespeare, institutions generally don’t do well in Shakespeare. Some of Shakespeare’s works can be read as being overtly or covertly anti-authoritarian (Measure for Measure certainly) but a good many others can be read as anti-institutional. This mix of anti-authoritarianism and anti-instiutionalism makes Shakespeare quite susceptible to being co-opted by the wide spectrum of political groups. Coriolanus is the only Shakespeare play to be banned in a democracy. It was banned in the French Third Republic in the ‘30s (Though keep in mind that women didn’t have the vote in the 3rd Republic and it was a colonial power moreoever, so this is not a complete democracy we are talking about) because French fascists co-opted it. During the ‘30s, the likes of TS Eliot also praised Coriolanus and called it Shakespeare’s best tragedy and while Eliot is not exactly a fascist (that would be his pal Ezra Pound), he was a conservative tory Anglican and an anti-semite. The first major left-wing artist to re-appropriate Coriolanus was Bertolt Brecht in ‘50s Stalinist East Germany, which suggests that something about Coriolanus appeals to people on what contemporary political science considers to be on the political extremes, i.e. authoritarian right/authoritarian left. 

Like Julius Caesar, Coriolanus is an adaptation by Shakespeare of Plutarch’s Parallel Lives. It’s a remarkably faithful adaptation of Plutarch’s biography, but the difference is that Plutarch is far more critical of Coriolanus than Shakespeare is. Shakespeare is more sympathetic to Coriolanus. A good example is the case of the “Tarpeian Rock” scene. This was the famous cliff on one of Rome’s Seven Hills by which the people could vote to throw of people they don’t like. In Plutarch there is only one mention of this, when Caius Martius Coriolanus, the titular character is condemned by the tribune,

Upon this, Sicinius, the boldest of the tribunes, after a brief conference with his colleagues, made formal proclamation that Martius was condemned to death by the tribunes of the people, and ordered the aediles to take him up to the Tarpeian rock at once, and cast him down the cliff below. But when the aediles laid hold of his person, it seemed, even to many of the plebeians, a horrible and monstrous act; the patricians, p163 moreover, utterly beside themselves, distressed and horror stricken, rushed with loud cries to his aid. Some of them actually pushed away the officers making the arrest, and got Marcius among themselves; some stretched out their hands in supplication of the multitude, since words and cries were of no avail amid such disorder and confusion.

LIFE OF CORIOLANUS, Translated by Dryden

This passage by Plutarch is apologetic but it is apologetic on behalf of the tribune and the Roman mob. 

In Shakespeare’s play, there are five mentions of the Tarpeian Rock. Now of course bear in mind that Shakespeare is adapting this for drama, and not writing an essay like Plutarch was. Not remotely the same medium. But even then Shakespeare’s change is clear, dramatic, and visible:

SICINIUS

He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law, And therefore law shall scorn him further trial Than the severity of the public power Which he so sets at nought.

First Citizen

He shall well know The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, And we their hands.

Citizens

He shall, sure on't. ACT ONE, SCENE THREE

In Shakespeare’s play only the Senators defend Coriolanus and none of the populace or the aediles dissent. The people blindly follow the tribunes which contradicts what Plutarch mentions. CORIOLANUS is the only Shakespeare play to actually represent an election campaign and a working republic. The plot of the play concerns a soldier Caius Martius, a General who defeated the Volsciian Tribe and captured the capital of Corioli from which he got his title Coriolanus. He’s a great general who loves Rome and the army, but he hates the citizens. His skills on the battlefield don’t translate to politics. Eventually Coriolanus gets banished from Rome, at which point he joins the Volscians and raises an army to fight the very Republic he once defended. He becomes a renegade in other words. 

There are parts of Coriolanus the Character that are contradictory. He is on one level anti-democratic, but he’s also on account of his martial glory and prowess, strangely anti-imperialistic. During the conquest of Corioli, in both Plutarch and Shakespeare, he condemns some of his men for war crimes and treats the Volscian well. Today, one can plausibly co-opt Coriolanus as an anti-populist, or a victim of populism, given the criticism he voices about electioneering in the play, described his opponent, the Tribune Brutus (an ancestor to the famous Assassin):

BRUTUS

I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i' the market-place nor on him put The napless vesture of humility; Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds To the people, beg their stinking breaths.

But of course Coriolanus swings from one extreme to the next. He is anti-populist but he’s also anti-institutional (aiming to curb and ruin the Tribune of the Plebs), and he’s both counter-revolutionary to his people and revolutionary to the Volsciians among whom he serves. The character in ASOIAF who mirrors Coriolanus’ character and contradictions best is VICTARION GREYJOY. 

The institution of the Kingsmoot in AFFC is shown to be quite modern in its intricacy complete with campaigning, electioneering, canvassing, and sloganeering. As noted by Asha Greyjoy who mentions it to her uncle Victarion (THE IRON CAPTAIN):

“Some men look larger at a distance,” Asha warned. “Walk amongst the cookfires if you dare, and listen. They are not telling tales of your strength, nor of my famous beauty. They talk only of the Crow’s Eye; the far places he has seen, the women he has raped and the men he’s killed, the cities he has sacked, the way he burnt Lord Tywin’s fleet at Lannisport . . .”

“I burnt the lion’s fleet,” Victarion insisted. “With mine own hands I flung the first torch onto his flagship.”

Victarion hates electioneering, and he insists only on his military prowess and record and resents Euron for claiming credit. At the Kingsmoot, this is Victarion’s entire speech (THE DROWNED MAN).

“I was a loyal brother,” Victarion went on. “When Balon was wed, it was me he sent to Harlaw to bring him back his bride. I led his longships into many a battle, and never lost but one. The first time Balon took a crown, it was me sailed into Lannisport to singe the lion’s tail. The second time, it was me he sent to skin the Young Wolf should he come howling home. All you’ll get from me is more of what you got from Balon. That’s all I have to say.”

Coriolanus hates the people of Rome with pride and he refuses to speak and pointedly refuses to make much of his scars.

CORIOLANUS

Your horror's pardon: I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them.

[...]

When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but your people, I love them as they weigh.

ACT2, SCENE2

Coriolanus is generally considered among Shakespeare’s dumbest tragic heroes. Victarion also swings from one extreme to the rest, only he does it stupidly hence ADWD where he becomes a devotee of both the Drowned God and Rhllor, and his idea of abolitionism (a la Dany) is hilariously offensive in its parody and satire. Aeron Greyjoy, who revived the institution of the Kingsmoot ultimately blames Euron’s victory on the people. But he also seeks to oppose Euron by going among the people and starting a revolution and resistance movement, a la General Coriolanus. He failed as is obvious in the Forsaken.  Victarion as GRRM argued elsewhere is a dullard. He has none of Coriolanus’ virtues. 

But who does Martin ultimately blame for Euron’s election? Should we agree with Aeron and condemn the mob, should we condemn the institution of the Kingsmoot, or should we condemn the weakness of effective opposition and unity against Euron. Because Coriolanus and Shakespeare cuts both ways. It’s possible to stage and read Coriolanus as the story of a General done in by a corrupt blood-thirsty mob, but we can also see in Coriolanus, the populace, mobilized effectively by the Tribunes Sicinus and Brutus to counter the Senate and the war hero Coriolanus from a Consulship that he believed he was entitled to, and which he likely would have used to abuse and limit their powers.

In AFFC, there was no united opposition to Euron. Euron won by charismatic authority, he won by magic, by subversion, but also by putting on a pretty good campaign. Euron is a cosmopolitan who hates the ironborn, who as @poorquentyn notes is a monster in a pirate suit, and he subverted the institutions of line of succession, of religion, and conventional morality. His chief opponents was Aeron’s religious authority, Victarion’s military record, and Asha’s own brand of charisma, and political skills. Together they could have combined as Coriolanus’ opponents in Plutarch and Shakespeare did to deny his consulship. Euron is a better and smarter candidate than both Victarion and Coriolanus but there wasn’t anything inevitable in him becoming King. The small reign of terror, the killing of Baelor Blacktyde, the purges and exile of Asha, the torture of Aeron Damphair, his chafing under the questioning of Rodrik Reader at Shield Islands, shows a man aware of real institutional levers against him. His canny subversion of feudal patronage and grants which he gloats to Aeron in Forsaken, shows a man who understands power and its limits. Proof of this can be seen in Samwell Tarly in ASOS, where Sam the Slayer manages to get a third party candidate to the LC Post, opposing the reactionary Alliser Thorne, by mobilizing and unitied Cotter Pyke/Denys Mallister and their men to throw their weight against Jon Snow. Sam Tarly behaves as a man who knows and understands his institution thoroughly and how to make it work to his advantage. Damphair, Asha and Victarion both knew and failed to appreciate it. 

Coriolanus can also be compared to Stannis Baratheon who is also an anti-populist (and anti-democratic) but who is also legalistic and institutionalist at the same time, and Stannis arguably mirrors Coriolanus’ trajectory the most in the way that his personal code and virtues is at odds with the values of his society. But fundamentally, Stannis is a more rounded and intellectual and introspective character than General Coriolanus, and Stannis is not without his populist appeal and support. The whole issue of mob violence can be compared to say, the Walk of Shame as well, but the religious movement of the Sparrows has no real parallel in anything in Shakespeare. 

This is as far as my SHAKESPEARE and ASOIAF Meta will go. At least for now. Maybe someday I will return with more stuff. But I doubt I will immerse myself as deeply into this. My next meta ASOIAF/Literary Compare Contrast series will be coming December-Jan anyway. 

[pomrania]

Blank

((part of the Little by Little AU))

Sabine stood nervously at the door. She knew she was in the right place. She recognized it, vaguely, from when she had taken Kanan there months ago; and more importantly, there was a sign. N0151-A... that could be both Kanan's "Enno-fifteen" and Ezra's "Noisi".

There were also the dots, under the letters. As Ezra had described, they were indeed raised. She was in the right place, probably.

She looked at the writing, and traced it with her fingers. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine reading based off of just that touch. It was possible, she knew that... she just couldn't understand being able to read that way, and only being able to read that way. She never wanted to have to understand that. (She didn’t want anyone to have to understand that.)

She checked for a buzzer. If there was one, she couldn't see it. She raised a hand to knock, then hesitated. Turn back, a part of herself whispered, there's nothing you can do. You'll just make a fool of yourself.

No.

She squared her shoulders, and resolutely knocked on the door. Assuming the droid wasn't busy, or standing directly by the door, the time from knock to response would be anywhere between --

The door slid open, and her first impression was white.

"Welcome, how can I be of assistance?"

She had thought of things to say -- she knew that, she remembered coming up with lines on the way there -- but she couldn't remember a single one of them. She stared blankly at the droid's face.

White, definitely; polished, not dull and dust-coloured like the other droids on base who had originally been white, presumably. Square optics, resembling some lenses she had seen worn by old pictures of scholars. Standard speech grille, and lines meant to evoke a face, yet it still looked blank and empty. Small flashes of colour, deep within, below and beside the optics. Torso... arms... didn't appear to have individual legs, but something on wheels.

She had seen the droid before, she realized. Even aside from when she had led Kanan to his appointment there, an event which she had done her level best to erase from her memory, she remembered seeing that bright white here and there, sticking out among the motley assortment of droids populating the area. Motley assortment of non-droids, too; for items to match was the exception rather than the rule, and most of the people likely never would have met if it weren't for their shared fight against the Empire.

She had something to do, something to ask the droid.... What was that one's name again? She'd heard at least three different versions... and did the droid go by "he", "it", "they", or what? It wasn't what she'd been planning on asking, but it would do until the stuff came to mind again.

"What's actually your name, and are you gendered?" she ended up saying.

Her question didn't appear to elicit any reaction out of the ordinary; for all she knew, people went up to the droid every day and asked dumb stuff like that.

"My designation is N-zero-one-five-one-dash-A. I am aware of a multitude of nicknames used to refer to me, and I will respond to any of them, or others given context to know that I am being addressed. I had not been programmed to have an inherent gender, but many organics feel that my voice is masculine."

No definite answer on that front then, but at least she felt more confident thinking of the droid as "Noisy" as opposed to the proper name.

The droid inclined the head towards her. "Was that the sole reason for your visit?"

No, it hadn't been. She looked around....

"The letters on your door," she said. "The raised ones. What are they?" She was almost certain it was what she thought it was, but she had to know for sure.

"That is the tactile alphabet, an alternate form of writing which does not require visual recognition. In my previous practice it was beneficial, as many clients were unable to sight-read any signs or direction. It is not in common use here, but I have not felt a need to use a different nameplate, without that writing on it, when this one is still quite functional."

She briefly wondered about that "previous practice", then shook the thought away. It wasn't important at the moment. "I'm... interested in that. Do you have any resources?" She needed to say something more. "I don't need... I have stuff that says what letter is what, but nothing to actually feel."

That was horrible. She almost cringed, both at her own words, and in anticipation of how the droid would react.

"Yes, there are resources available here, from my personal supplies. The main priorities of the Rebellion unfortunately do not include visual health and coping with poor or lacking vision, nor do I have a sufficient budget to acquire everything I consider necessary, but they have expressed no issues with me keeping already-acquired supplies. Come in."

Sabine had never actually been inside the medbay. She had been injured before, of course, and even after Chopper Base was established, but it had always been something they could take care of on the ship. The time with Kanan, which she still didn't want to think about, she had stayed outside, and any view she might have had of the interior had been blocked by both him and the droid. If she had been asked earlier to describe what she thought it would look like, she would have said "the same as every other building there", going by its outward appearance.

That was not entirely accurate.

The room was white. Very white. It took her a moment to realize that the lights actually were on a brighter setting, and it wasn't just the unrelieved white which was making her eyes hurt. She idly wondered if the droid would blend right in when not in motion.

Everything was familiar, in the vague sense of one med centre looking a lot like another, if only because of the necessary functions. She saw equipment and machines she recognized but couldn't identify, a desk and terminal, some beds.... The droid moved, no longer blocking her view, and her eye was instantly drawn to the black examination chair, such a visual contrast. The glass-doored cabinet looked like it contained some interesting chemicals, and she noted it out of habit, even if she wasn't going to steal supplies from an ally. Aside from the door she'd just entered, there were three potential exits; but since she didn't know where those other doors might lead, better not to count on them.

All in all, it was incredibly boring, and practically begged Sabine to add some colour to the place; liven it up a bit, or a lot, as she had literally seen cell blocks with more character and colour to them than this room. Her fingers twitched, but she didn't have any paint with her. And also the droid might get upset at that.

Speaking of the droid, Noisy had bent at the waist-equivalent and was going through a drawer, then straightened and wheeled closer, carrying something in the manipulators. The sound told her when the movement started and ended. Maybe that had been the intention and purpose of it; nobody who could hear that noise would ever be surprised by the droid's position.

"You may take the pamphlets, I have others. These are my most easily-accessed examples of the tactile alphabet. The other resources have been put in storage, but I can retrieve them if you would like."

"Can I... just have a moment to look at this first?"

It was the wrong word, "look". At first glance, the pamphlets appeared empty, with a little bit of writing at the top of each. There was no reason for text to be visible.

She was doing it wrong. She closed her eyes, and felt it instead.

It was stiffer than normal flimsi, not as -- ha -- flimsy. She could barely feel anything, was this... no, she was going at it from the wrong angle, literally. Raising something up meant pushing the other side down, after all. She flipped the sheet around, and felt the bumps she had been expecting.

It was... disorienting. She couldn't tell where one symbol ended and another began. Was she holding it right way up? She drew her fingers along what she thought was a line of text, only to find when she reached the other end that she had gone on a diagonal. This was going to be difficult. But she could manage it. Eventually.

She opened her eyes. "Okay. What else do you have?"

"Please wait here."

She watched Noisy open one of the doors she had noted earlier; it was not in fact an exit, unless there was one hidden behind all the boxes. She wondered what was in them. Medical supplies, probably, ones that weren't often called upon; maybe spare parts for the droid.

She looked down, at the brochures. She picked out one titled "nutrition and health" and traced the dots, this time looking at it while she did so. She could visually recognize one symbol off the top of her head, it was the letter A -- or maybe the number 1, depending on context -- but it was difficult to feel that single dot. She would learn, though. She didn't know how, but she would learn. She just needed to pra--

Clattering sound. Her head shot up, and turned in the direction the droid had gone. There was still boxes... just now, more of them were unstacked. Nothing looked broken, and she was vaguely jealous.

"Assuming everything was correctly inventoried, this box should contain what you requested," Noisy said. "Please excuse me while I return the other boxes to their places."

"What is it?" she asked. "I mean, what's in the box?"

The droid didn't pause. "Items related to the tactile alphabet, both in reading and production. Aside from additional copies of the pamphlets, and incomplete or spare components, there is also a printer, and an introductory primer for learners of the tactile alphabet. Unfortunately, my tactile display was lost in the move.”

"To here?" She hadn't thought there had been that much of a rush for Kanan --

Noisy's head shook. "No, the move from my former practice, to the Rebellion. I cannot properly blame them, though, as they were being fired upon at the time, and at least all of the most important equipment arrived safely."

She blinked. Huh. She really shouldn't have been surprised; everyone had a story, even the droids, or at least the more intelligent ones. Yet there was still the obvious question....

"What's a tactile display?" she asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like! It plugs into a terminal or datapad or the like, and displays text in the tactile alphabet by raising dots in the appropriate pattern. Once acquired, it is tremendously freeing to individuals who have difficulties sight-reading, as they don't have to wait for any given text to be transcribed, and listening to audio is not always desirable, for a variety of reasons.”

She would have to look into that, later. Once -- she pushed the thought back. Tactile display, potentially useful, that was all. "How about the 'printer', what's that?”

  How was a droid able to "frown" when the face was completely immobile? One of life's great mysteries, she supposed. "Due to past errors in judgment on my part, the printer is the only method currently at my disposal for an organic to produce the tactile alphabet with the appropriate size and regularity. It is possible to do so by hand, yet I had failed to acquire the tools for that at my previous practice, so they are not available here."

  She'd heard about writing the tactile alphabet by hand; in a tactile way, and not just drawing it out, that would be useless for someone who couldn't see it. Someone like -- no, she wasn't thinking about that right now stop it. She remembered something about having to do it backwards, with a stencil. It didn't matter if it wasn't available, though.

"This printer takes text input, and -- "

Later, that was the last thing that Sabine could clearly recall, about what exactly the printer did. She tried to pay attention, she really did; but she got bogged down in all the details. Noisy was enthusiastic, that was for sure. There was something about settings and contractions and reading levels -- she remembered being even more confused about that, wasn't it all the same for literate adults? -- and something about automatic spacing. It almost certainly did not mean pushing someone out the airlock, but she couldn't understand what was actually being talked about, so the image stuck with her.

  "I am unwilling to loan out the printer, but it may be used, under supervision."

She blinked. The flood of words was over now, apparently.

"...thanks," she said, and hoped that her inattention hadn't been noticed. "That just leaves the... primer, I think?"

"Yes, the primer." Noisy held up a binder. It opened to reveal sheets of that same thicker paper with the raised dots she could feel, and flimsi with both normal writing and dot writing printed on it. The sheets were held together by three metallic rings in the centre, and the pages turned freely. "Many different texts exist, for the purpose of instruction. The one I have was originally composed by my predecessor's predecessor."

On the base? No, she thought, that had to refer to the droid's "previous practice".

"It has been described as incredibly useful for learning the tactile alphabet, both by touch and by sight." Noisy handed it to her. "You may borrow it."

"Are you sure?" she said, feeling the weight in her arms; she could easily carry it, but it was hefty enough to be a viable weapon if needed. "If it's that useful, wouldn't you need to keep it, in case there's someone else who wants it?"

“The text is fully contained in my databanks and I am capable of printing out another copy if necessary. In addition, you are the first person to ask me about the tactile alphabet, in any form, ever since I left my former practice."

The droid seemed somewhat pleased. At least she was good for something. She set the binder down, placing the brochures inside it; she didn't want them to bend.

“May I just say, that it is good to have someone take an interest in the tactile alphabet. Many of my former clients had complained that there was very little available for them because, I quote second-hand, 'nobody else knew it', and every sighted person who learns to read in that manner makes the galaxy a more hospitable place."

Noisy paused. “Did I assume correctly that you are fully sighted? Have you been experiencing vision loss?”

No. She hadn’t even thought to consider -- what if she -- she couldn’t bear to think about that possibility. No.

“Please give me an eye exam,” she hurriedly said.

The droid made a pleased-sounding noise. “Excellent. Please sit down, and I will begin momentarily.”

She settled into the black examination chair, and tried to look relaxed. Noisy wouldn’t care, but she did. She didn’t need to worry yet. There had been no signs of problems. But Ezra -- was not her, and they weren’t genetically related in any sense more than both being human. She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting, and waited.

The droid wheeled back to her in probably less than a minute -- she couldn’t trust her sense of time -- with something attached to the arms. “When was your most recent eye examination?”

Good question. “A few years ago, but I’m not sure exactly,” she thought aloud. “Probably when I was still at the academy… it really hasn’t been a priority.”

There was an undeniable sound of disapproval. “A sentiment shared by too many, and not just those fighting in the Rebellion. Focus your gaze on the area beside my left optic, where a light is currently flashing as a guide, and try not to blink.”

She followed Noisy’s instructions without question or hesitation; without thought, when she could manage it. She kept her eyes open despite a painfully bright light, looked up or down or left or right, followed that one’s manipulator with her gaze, identified shapes and letters at various distances. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears all the while. What if. What if.

The droid gave her no feedback, only directions. Was that a good sign, that there was nothing she needed to hear, or a bad sign, waiting for proof before giving her the news?

“Your visual field and acuity is within the optimal range for humans, with no apparent signs of damage or disorder. If you notice any changes, please inform me immediately, but at the moment, rest assured that everything seems to be in good condition.”

Good. Good. Good! She didn’t know what she would have done if she'd been told that she was going blind too. Probably try to go out guns blazing before it got any worse, she thought; then immediately felt horrible. Kanan was not “better off dead”, and Ezra wouldn’t be either, so why would it even be a thing that she would half-consider to possibly be an option for anybody else --

“Are you otherwise well? You appear to be experiencing distress.”

She realized she was shaking. She took a deep breath and clenched her fists. Her nails dug into her palms. “I’m just… relieved,” she managed. “Very relieved.”

The droid seemed to accept that at face value. “Regular appointments would serve to prevent any unpleasant surprises with regards to one’s health, visual or otherwise. Once a baseline has been established, any deviations from that can be investigated, monitored, and corrected if necessary and possible.”

Yeah, she was definitely doing that. She never wanted to go through that worry again. “Okay,” she said, “where do I sign up?”

A humming sound came from Noisy, but different than before, not from that one’s wheels. The lights below the optics began to blink rapidly, in a regular pattern. She realized it was probably the equivalent of an uncontrollable wide grin. “Excellent! Given your age and the lack of anything interesting on your test results, I would normally say to come back in a year; however, given your high-risk occupation and potential exposure to any number of harmful elements, I will instead recommend six months. Would you like me to send a reminder at that time?”

A lot could happen in six months. She didn’t know where she would be, or what she’d be dealing with, or if she’d be in any state of mind to remember. “Yeah, that’d be better.”

“Acknowledged. Records indicate that you are a member of the Ghost crew. Assuming you are still alive in six months, and have not suffered a major injury in the intervening time, I shall schedule an appointment for you at that time."

She felt vaguely uncomfortable at that phrasing, but shrugged it off. It wasn't like the droid was telling her anything she didn't already know; and she'd seen too many crews coming back with empty spaces, or not at all, to harbour any illusions of invulnerability. Even before Kanan.

The droid didn't notice her reactions. "It is gratifying to be able to fulfill my primary purpose. For so long I was relegated to mostly dealing with non-ocular trauma or preventable injuries, which any medical droid would be capable of. Now, I am being used again for my specialty, even multiple instances in short succession."

Once she untangled what the droid meant by that, Sabine realized she often felt the same. She was more than just an explosives or weapons expert, and she felt so much more her when she could do her art, and be useful in doing it. But, then, she remembered. The droid was happy to deal with eye injuries or conditions; and even her own exam was only because she had been worried.

Why did everything keep coming around to stuff she didn't want to think about?! But she had to think about it, at least somewhat, if she wanted to be able to do something.

Tactile alphabet: dealt with, for the moment. Her own visual health: hadn't been on the list, but she knew she was okay with it for now. She was okay, in that regard; were the others? Kanan... didn't really have anything left to lose, and Ezra was being dealt with; Chopper didn't have organic parts, and she more or less knew how to repair his optics anyways; that still left Hera and Zeb. Hera needed her eyes to pilot, and Sabine wasn't going to let Zeb be hurt in any way if she could help it.

"Is it okay if I can get some others to come in as well?" she said, trying to sound casual. She was already planning how she would convince, trick, drag, and/or bribe Zeb to attend an appointment. (Just because he was important to her, that didn't mean she'd let him do what he wanted. Especially if it was for his own good.)

"Please do! Regular examinations are vital for optic health, and catching any conditions early." Noisy paused. "Is that all?"

No. She remembered now; she'd had two reasons for coming there. One was complete. The other... she still had to do. It was a thing that maybe nobody else remembered about, but she did, and it meant something to her. This could be incredibly awkward, but it was her best possible option.

“No, there's one more thing,” she said, and made sure to not fiddle with her sleeve. “Are you okay with drawing blood? Like, and filling a vial with it? That I could have, and take with me?”

The optics weren't designed for giving a Stare, but she felt it anyways. “Yes, I have the knowledge and equipment to take blood samples. Why would you want me to, if not for running tests on it?”

Her mind blanked. She hadn't actually considered having to justify that request; which just went to show how distracted she was lately. She ran through all the excuses she'd used recently. "Ask Hera about it", her general go-to, wouldn't work there, and "It's your fault for not checking if it was explosive", the excuse she had most recently given, was completely the wrong context.

"It's a Mandalorian thing." Hopefully the droid would leave it at that....

She got the impression of a sniff. "Unlikely. Although I have not been programmed with a comprehensive knowledge of Mandalorian customs, your statement bears marked similarities to some very common excuses. Unless I am given a truthful and valid reason, I will refuse to carry out the procedure."

How was she going to -- what could she say that -- no, she had to stop and consider. There was no real reason not to tell Noisy what she had planned; it wasn't a surprise intended for the droid after all, and patient confidentiality was probably an important part of the programming. If she couldn't even say what she wanted to do, why would she think that she'd be able to actually do it?

She wasn't going to give up. She especially wouldn't be defeated by her own hesitancy and shame. She was better than that.

(Besides, she knew the type of people on the base, and there was absolutely zero chance that the droid had never been asked something by them for an even weirder reason. If she thought about it, she'd probably instigated some of them; Atollon could get boring very quickly, and when you brushed against death on a near-daily basis, it was easily to develop a skewed sense of what was dangerous or a bad idea.)

“It's….” She licked her lips and started again. “It's for a blood oath, okay, and if I can't get it here I'll have to get it some other way, and I don't want to freak out Ez-- I don't want to disturb people any more than would happen regardless.”

She crossed her arms. "I'm going to do it anyways," she said. "I need my blood for this. And the last time I...." It was impossible for unaltered humans to both facepalm in embarrassment, and cross arms in defiance, at the same time; her muscles twitched before she realized that. "The last time I tried," she forced out, "I didn't get enough blood on what I wanted, Ketsu thought I was trying to kill myself, and I couldn't grip anything with that hand for ages because it was too sore. It was all around a bad idea. Very bad idea. I thought it would be...."

She uncrossed her arms and looked directly at Noisy. She needed to present her request as reasonable. Which it was, after all. "I thought it would be better if an actual medical professional took the blood. That would avoid any potential issues of infection or unintended injury, and minimize the care needed."

The droid appeared to be considering her statement. "I acknowledge your points," Noisy said. "I do not approve, yet I will tentatively agree to assist. How much blood would you require, and when would you need it?”

"Enough to fill... I don't have anything exact, but roughly this much?" she said, and indicated the size of the container.

"That amount can be safely removed from a human of your body mass, with minimal-to-no ill effects from blood loss. It should be safe, barring unforeseen factors."

Was that it?

"Additionally, have you accounted for the storage and preservation requirements, and what is the immediacy?"

Of course it wasn't that simple. Nothing ever was.

She tried to figure out what the droid was asking. She hadn't yet answered when she needed it, so maybe that was...? "Why are you asking me?" she said, just to fill in space while thinking. "You’re the professional, what do you think?"

She wasn't able to pick out any motion or vocalization, but something about Noisy made her think of someone shrugging their shoulders.

"Normally any blood extraction would be carried out for very specific purposes, with defined quantities and duration of storage. I shall restate my inquiry. You do not appear to have understood. Firstly, do you intend to use the blood for your 'oath' as soon as it has been acquired and you are at the appropriate setting?"

No. She knew that without thinking, but hadn't even realized she knew it, had already made that decision. That would mean doing everything right away: finding witnesses, facing Ezra (she still hadn't seen him yet that day and she hated that she was glad of it), gathering symbolic objects, thinking about symbolic objects and what they meant and why she needed to make an oath anyways, verbally acknowledging that there was a problem something was wrong and she wasn't going to make fun of him in any art he couldn't see and it was going to be an issue because he wouldn't be able to see and no matter what she swore it wouldn't make a difference and why had she even --

"I will not be using it today," she calmly said. "It might be in a few days, or a few weeks. I do not know at the moment."

She didn't know anything. All the information she'd gone over with Zeb was just that, information, and she didn't know how to best apply it, or how to apply it at all.

"Given that," the droid continued, "are you able to store and prepare your sample until it is used?"

She had a brief but vivid mental image of Hera accidentally using it as a condiment, and was torn between wanting to laugh and gag. "Can I keep it here?" she asked. "Is that possible?"

"It is possible, as there is currently adequate storage available. The situation may yet change; if so, I would contact you so you can make arrangements for alternate storage."

"Okay then. Let's do this." That sounded horrible. But what else could she say?

"Acknowledged. Are you able to expose the inner aspect of your elbow in your current attire, or will you require some privacy to change clothing?"

"No, I can roll up my sleeve." It wasn't obvious, with her armour, but she could. "Which arm?"

Noisy moved away again, she assumed to gather supplies. "Either would suffice, unless you are aware of any injuries or implants in the region that would interfere."

"Nothing like that," she confirmed.

"I shall be there momentarily."

She had no idea what she was doing. She'd had blood taken before, she was familiar with the process; but just, life in general, at the moment. To start with, Mandalorian culture did not have a tradition of blood oaths, as far as she knew. It was just something she had heard about that seemed meaningful to her, so she'd come up with her own rituals, just as binding to her as anything legally recognized. She was making it up as she went along, so she didn't have anyone she could turn to, for answers.

She didn't know if it was a good idea. She was still going to do it eventually, she'd decided, but would it actually help Ezra feel better? Even the tactile alphabet, which she had been so sure about... would it do any good, or help in any way other than distracting her?

At least she knew Zeb was just as lost as she was. And well, if she'd waited until she knew what she was doing, she never would have escaped the academy, and somehow things had ended up eventually working out. (Although she could have done without almost dying, thank you very much.)

The droid came back. Both of her sleeves were already rolled up, as she vaguely remembered something about "dominant arm", but wasn't sure if that was the side that should or shouldn't get poked. She didn't have anything to say as she felt the chill of the sterilizing solution on the inside of her elbow, or the brief pain of a needle being inserted, or saw her red flow into the transparent vial.

It was over so quickly. Like most important moments, if she thought about it. And in a case of her mind jumping to the exact worst possible thing, she remembered that when Kanan was blinded, it had happened in less than a second, from what she heard. That had been red too, but from a blade, not blood.

But Kanan was... well, nobody she knew could be accurately described as "okay", they all had too many problems from both inside and outside, but mostly as okay as he had been. She hadn't been okay either, for a long time, but she had gotten back into a functional state. It had happened before, and it would happen again, with this.

She had to believe it.

She blankly stared at the vial of blood, and the droid, and the droid's manipulator holding the vial. The colours played before her eyes, white and red and black in her peripheral vision. They made a vivid statement together, but she couldn't tell what it was saying.

"--ntact when you require it, although doing so ahead of time would be preferable. There is no guarantee that I will be unoccupied at any given moment, as emergencies do not happen on a set schedule."

It wasn't that droids were hard to pay attention to. It was her. She couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. She knew the sensation. It was uncomfortably familiar.

"Thank you," she said after a pause that was probably too long. "That's all I had to do here."

She wasn't made for rooms with such blank walls. Nobody was; well, except Noisy (the droid probably was literally made for rooms like that), but certainly not Ezra. He shouldn't have had to get life-changing bad news at all, but it must have been even worse, being somewhere with nothing to look at when told he wouldn't be able to look at anything in a few years.

It was too late to change anything that had already happened. All she could do was try to make sure it wouldn't happen again. Eventually, one way or another, she needed to bring some colour into that room. Everyone needed colour.

But what if they couldn't see it?

She left with the binder in her arms, feeling no better than when she had arrived.

[jameshboyd]

"The Church Needs To..." Misconceptions About Faith Based Charity

A number of years ago I was talking with an old friend who had not been to church in a while. One of the reasons he gave was that he did not feel that churches were doing enough to help people in need. While I ceded that there was always room for improvement , I also told him about a number of outreaches my church at the time was involved in. He responded, rather curtly  "Do you train them for jobs?" When I acknowledged that we didn't do that, the conversation completely shut down. He wouldn't listen to anything else I had to say. Certainly,  this does serve as a sobering  reminder to believers not to neglect our duty in these areas. Caring for those in need is the single most frequently repeated command in the entire Bible. As we attempt to live this out, albeit imperfectly, there are some who are quick to criticize the church for it's shortcomings. Often the criticism is valid, other times it is based on faulty and even unbiblical reasoning.

 This is embodied in  some of the popular Memes circulating on social media, which I will address as we go along.  Before we proceed, I will remind you of three things that I hope we can all agree on:

Are there churches that neglect God's command to care for the needy? Unfortunately, yes.

Are the "megachurches" that misuse their privileges and resources? Yes, but that is not typical of most churches.

In all areas, is there room for improvement? Absolutely! 

So with that in mind, let's look at meme number one:

First of all, having a nice place to worship is not at odds with Biblical charity. Simply look at God's instructions to build the Tabernacle (Exodus 26) and later the Temple (1 Chronicles 28). Many years later Jesus Himself would worship in a similar temple, and while He certainly did challenge its corrupt leadership, He still acknowledged it as God's house (Matthew 21:12-13).  In all likelihood, these homeless shelters, missions etc. are operated and funded by many of these same churches. Those volunteering on any given day may very well be members of these churches. Who is to say that the people in the SUV may not volunteer there on other days? 

Also, keep in mind that a church's activities in these areas may not always be immediately visible. Churches vary widely in terms of facilities, finances and human resources. In addition, different churches have different callings and giftings, so the methods they use may also vary. Just because you may not see the work directly on the church grounds does not necessarily mean that the church is not engaged.

Often, area churches will work together in parachurch ministries and consequentially can help many more people than they could individually. In the east Tennessee region where I live, examples would include .Knox Area Rescue Ministries, The Knoxville Dream Center and The Compassion Coalition,

So if you have questions regarding a certain church, why not actually contact the church and ask for yourself instead of jumping to conclusions? You might be surprised! 

  I do not deny this is a problem. I have personally left churches in the past over what I felt were inappropriate financial practices and will certainly never defend a church that participates in it. That being said, it is important that we don't take things to the opposite extreme as some do. There is nothing unethical about a minister being paid a decent salary. Jesus said the laborer is worthy of his hire (Luke 10:7, also see Matthew 10:10; Luke 10:7; Galatians 6:6, 1 Timothy 5:17-18 and Hebrews 7 1-11). 

However, if a person has the leadership skills necessary to be a successful pastor, he is likely earning significantly less than he could working a secular job. Many pastors are grossly overworked, often being on call around the clock. Pastors generally also have to purchase their own insurance and pay their own Social Security premiums, both of which can be very costly. If your goal is simply to get rich, then ministry is certainly not the profession for you! 

Nonetheless, the point is well taken. Especially in times like ours, it is more important than ever that churches and ministries handle their finances with the utmost integrity. I would encourage every ministry leader to meditate regularly on the following Scriptures:

We put no stumbling block in anyone’s path, so that our ministry will not be discredited (2 Corinthians 6:3, NIV, emphasis added).

We want to avoid any criticism of the way we administer this liberal gift. For we are taking pains to do what is right, not only in the eyes of the Lord but also in the eyes of man. (2 Corinthians 8:19-20, emphasis added).

But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people (Ephesians 5:3, NIV, emphasis added).

As for taxing churches, the problem with that is that it would be punishing all churches for the sins of the few. For each ministry that does these sort of things, there are countless others who are faithfully doing the work. They may be smaller and less visible, but they are out there.

If churches were taxed, the ones hardest hit would be the smaller churches who are operating on shoestring budgets. The aforementioned faith based charities these churches fund would suffer greatly. In the meantime the big money ministries the meme refers to would still find ways around it. They could simply write off their private jets and other extravagances as business expenses, for instance.

Tax exemption for houses of worship has a scriptural foundation (Genesis 47:26; Ezra 7:24). Is it sometimes abused? Of course, but it is there for good reason and doing away with it would do much more harm than good. .

.And finally, a favorite of many politicians:

Not exactly. In fact, misconceptions in this very issue led up to one of the first attempts to kill Jesus! In Luke 4:25-29,  Jesus boldly proclaimed His mission to bring good news to the poor. Interestingly, though, this same discourse reveals a somewhat surprising overview of how this operates. 

In verses. 26-27, Jesus referred to a time when a horrible famine was in the nation of Israel, but how many people actually received God's help? Only one, a widow who fed the prophet (1 Kings 17:9). Another time, there were many in the land who suffered from leprosy, yet God's healing power only came to one person, a man named Naaman, who likewise heeded the Divine directions given to him (2 Kings 5:1-14). The people who heard these words were so angry with Jesus the tried to throw Him over a cliff! 

The point He was making is that God's provision is not unconditional. In carrying out His mission today, it is not at all unreasonable to expect proper accountability from those who receive the aid.  Churches and ministries have limited resources which come almost exclusively from voluntary contributions (which the contributors have already payed taxes on. This is why the churches and other non-profit organizations  don't pay taxes on the money again). 

I once had a part-time job as a security guard for a church. When I first started the job and the pastor was going over the various responsibilities, he made it a point to tell me about people who came by the church seeking financial help. As he explained, there was a procedure they had to follow. For example, they would call other churches in the area to see if the people in question had been there first. The reason was that some people made their entire living panhandling from churches. While it is sad that this is the case, these people can quickly drain all of the resources from a benevolence ministry if proper precautions are not taken. Interestingly, we see similar issues discussed by the Apostle Paul in his letter to his protégé', the young Pastor Timothy. In this Epistle, we learn that Timothy's church is establishing a program to care for its widows, which is certainly a noble effort. However, Paul gives some advice to his close friend which would seem surprising by today's standards. He tells Timothy that those widows receiving the aid must meet rigid requirements regarding age (1 Timothy 5:9), and they must have no family or other means of support (1 Timothy 5:3-16). They must also have a proven reputation for pure lives and service to the church (1 Timothy 5:10). Paul even goes as far as to say refuse the aid to younger widows, as they would abuse the privilege (1 Timothy 5:11-12).  The same compassion that inspires the church's charity should also inspire proper stewardship of its resources to see that they do the maximum good.  I will conclude with a challenge. It is very easy to criticize from the sidelines. If you see something you feel is not being done, have you considered that God may be giving you a vision to help do something about it? If you have never surrendered your life to Christ, that is where it starts. Then, find a good Gospel centered church to partner with and see what God does from there! 

Keep It Real, 

James  #jameshboyd #keepitreal #yourfriendjames 

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[severelyfoggytragedy-blog]

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With teachers including Paul Gravett, curator of the British Libraryis event Comics Revealed: Art and Anarchy in the UK, Parent cartoonist Steven Appleby and author and comics writer Toby Litt, you will learn about the initial possibilities the formatting gives, how to use an artist or author, and the way to plan and accomplish a task. Waterloo & Trafalgar (community selection) by French illustrator extraordinaire Olivier Tallec, additionally from my constantly fantastic friend Captivated Lion Guides, is a careful, minimalist Cold-War allegory that shows the tale of two figures who observe one another observantly through the seasons over the filter walls that separate these. Distinct your thought into three pieces: the start, midsection, and concluding parts of the book. Maggie Lea adores books significantly more than folks, and so a stylish old bookshop of aged leather's world tomes that certain sees simply with gloved fingers accommodates her just so. She lives in the world of text onpaper, and her own is written by her. Lastly, she boasts the Wellers requested the books to be fudged by her to costs that are obscure the. Customers commenting on Internet boards claimed digital editions of the Harry Potter books and the books of Ayn Rand's disappearance . superfit-blog.com are not the create-or- factor in a lovely game, nonetheless I” particularly on mobile phones. The variation between the ladies on Waters and my lineup: these ladies learn better-than to try and look like you're 20 when you're 50. Nevertheless it should at least notate ejaculation the increasing activity, and dropping action of the new new. Throughout, you will discover basic books for visitors of ages which were digitized for online reading, as well as directories of headings that are advised that may be acquired at try your library. Instead, it provides as more of a music somebody — a body of operate that the overall gameis created tunes took its hints. Gloriously inventive, regularly surprising, Gorgeous Spoils can be a story of individuals that are flawed nonetheless interesting, driving the rugged seashore of the existence while holding with their goals that are unbelievable. Quite simply, needing to create a book in annually for an editor really suggests at the least eighteen weeks you receive,. In 2006 Maslin of the Times stated, Jess Walter is really an extremely accomplished since. This history is really no diverse from his different works, even when within this fresh that is distinct he's heavy handed with some stereotypes. I'm going to strangle the one who produced this excursion essential, we considered to personally. My hand was learned by me to get a little and I must confess; It is so wonderful plus it completely suits my palm. Sarakiniko Seashore will be the many photographed landscaping within the Aegean - the white boulders that are bright Mimic the moon's outer lining and decayed over time contrasted thus fantastically contrary to the turquoise of the waters that were encompassing. It's really a visible book and all you need to-do is sit back because it's the kinetic sort that does not need any interactions and study. I am hoping this list as well as the books onto it are useful to anyone if you're exceptional ache of a breakup.